Loose Lips Sink Ships
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: All the Bonuses and AUs from Tell it to the Marines.
1. Tell it to the Marines - Chapter 42,5

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 **Tell it to the Marines Canon Bonus**

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 **Chapter 42.5**

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Ace stares at the offending item as if it burns, hands twitching but he doesn't dare touch.

He half expects Riskua to come flying in through the window or the door (or hell even through the wall à la Garp style) and give him the stink eye. But that doesn't happen.

That doesn't mean that Ace has drummed up the courage to move the offending item that rests upon his bed, half hidden beneath the pillowcase.

He's going to kill Sabo, because only that idiot would dare do this.

He ignores the memory of his goodbye with Riskua, forcibly pushes down the questions (why, why did she kiss him, does it mean anything, does she do that with everyone, does she do that with just him, there's so many questions) to instead swear vengeance upon his brother.

Because he knows the blond shit is behind the lacy black garment on his bed.

Holy shit, what is he going to do with it? He can't just throw it out; that feels like sacrilege, like he's throwing a physical piece of Riskua away like she means nothing. This belongs to her.

But fuck if he's delivering it back to her; that'd be seven levels of awkward.

Why the hell is his only option to keep it? What the fuck is wrong with the world? He's going to have to move it off his bed at some point, some point soon too. Ace wants to sleep and he wants to go to sleep soon.

Sucking in a breath, the Second Division Commander hesitantly steps forward, forcibly swallowing the lump in his throat. It's still there on his bed, sitting there, taunting him. Like a visual representation of Sabo's taunting laughter, the sound of which he can hear loud and clear in his mind.

It's just underwear, Ace tells himself, fingers twitching. It's not like it's even a pair of panties, it's just a bra.

True the bra's one of the most risqué things he's ever seen, all transparent lace with only a handful of strategically placed lines of solid black fabric that leaves both nothing and everything to the imagination, but Ace can handle this.

He's not going to be undone by a bra, by his crush's best friend's bra. She's a girl, she wears bras. She's left one here (by Sabo's hand, he's seriously going to kill the blond one day) and he can damn well move it off his bed.

It's light as fuck in his hands; Riskua doesn't need as much support as the handful of women Ace's been with before; all their bras had been heavier, though admittedly they'd had a lot to hold up. If this flimsy thing is all that Riskua's wearing, then her breasts obviously don't need the suppo-

"No, stop thinking about it!" Ace presses his face into his hands, only to tear them away a second later because he's still holding the bra and that's weird as fuck.

But that leaves him staring at the garment in his hands just in time for Marco to poke his head through the doorway.

"Ace, yoi, we're-" The First Division Commander cuts himself off, eyes fixed on Ace whose eyes are fixed on the bra even as horror coils in his gut.

"Not your lovers, huh?" And he's gone before Ace can correct him.

God damn it, he's going to kill Sabo.

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* * *

 **So, decided to upload some of the tumblr Bonuses here (ranging from actual 'canon' happenings in TittM, to AU stuff with the characters). Not all of them, but some of the more complete, finished ones. I'll tag the mature content ones with a NSFW in the chapter title.**

 **Enjoy,**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


	2. Art Student AU

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 **Art Student AU**

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 **You're a life model and I'm an artist, but a really slow one, could you maybe stick around so I can finish this brief please?**

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Fuck Gramps.

The old bastard insists they go on to study higher education, attempting to strong arm them into becoming marines. As a member of the Whitebeard Gang, Ace had absolutely no intention of going to 'study at a higher level', but he's not really been given much choice. So that's why he's studying something Garp would never approve of.

Art.

That it's relaxing as hell and Ace is actually really enjoying it; that's just a bonus. That the main tutor is one of Sabo's protest buddies is just the icing on the cake.

He'd known Ivankov for two years before he signed up for art school and the Okama just, gets him? That's the best way Ace can explain it in all honesty.

He lets Ace 'art' as he wants to. Sometimes that's incredibly quick sketches (that actually brings Ivankov to tears because of the 'passion' in his marks, whatever that means) but sometimes Ace is all about the detail. Drawings like that can take him hours upon hours to finish, but that's okay.

Or, it was until they started on life drawings.

The first few sessions Ace's in his quick 'passionate' mood. The sketches are swift, barely recognisable as human and all done in charcoal. Because that stuff is messy and amazing and Ace loves it.

Pops keeps coming to the shows and he buys every last piece of work Ace makes and though it's embarrassing as hell it makes him quite happy too?

It's odd, but whenever he walks into one of the buildings Pop's owns he finds some of his art just splashed across whatever surface he looks at. Pops genuinely likes them, and so do all his brothers.

Sabo's been bugging him for a piece recently to put up in his own activist movement office (or something like that, Ace isn't actually one hundred percent on what Sabo does, only that it'd have been slapped with the label 'revolution' a hundred or so years ago) so that's what the goal is for today.

They're getting a female life model today, seeing as they've had the same guy for the past four weeks they're trading out. But instead of four one-hour sessions, they're only getting a single four-hour session with the girl today so they've been told to 'make the most of it'.

Which Ace fully intends to do.

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He just hadn't been expecting the model to, well, look like that.

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She's got gorgeous colours, all red hair and shocking yellow eyes and, and Ace doesn't want to draw her face.

This shouldn't be awkward, she's wearing a damn sheet for god's sake. None of the other guys seem really attracted to her past the fact she's got long legs and (as a life model is known to do) she's showing a lot of skin.

The pose she's picked really isn't helping; sprawled on her stomach across the makeshift bed, hair muses and haloing her face, head cradled in her folded arms and long legs kicked up to hang in in the air.

Ace's eyes keep coming back to the legs, because there's an awful lot of them, so that's what he ends up drawing in the end.

Not all of her, just the legs.

Sabo'd have probably appreciated the more artful shot of her face, the soft smile and twinkling 'come hither' in those poisonous exotic eyes but… but Ace doesn't want to share the sight, quite frankly.

He ends up working towards an incredibly detailed drawing of her legs, focusing on the folds of the fabric and where the excess material of the sheet gathers at the curve of her thigh and four hours passes a lot quicker than he'd been expecting it to.

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Ivankov had wanted them to have several drawings of the model in different styles but he's only got the one… and he's the only one here.

Ace looks around, noticing all the other easels have been packed up and all the other students have buggered off. Even Ivankov's gone and Ace never usually misses the man's extravagant goodbyes.

In fact… it's been just over five hours since the life drawing session started.

"Shit, sorry, you didn't have to stick around, how much do you charge an hour?" Ace blunders out, rushing to get all his stuff put away, not quite able to meet the woman's gaze because she's still laid out on the makeshift bed looking like she's just woke up; those eyes are still hooded but they're unnervingly enough locked on him.

"It's okay," she says, speaking for the first time since she came in and whereas her smile had been soft before now it's warm. "I knew the time was up but you looked so into it that I didn't want to move."

As she sits up she's careful to ensure the sheet moves with her and then Ace is suddenly reminded of the fact she's very much naked under that and they're very much alone in the studios.

Ivankov had turned the heating up to make the woman more comfortable in her state of undress and Ace is sweating, very aware of the fact he doesn't even know her name.

"Can I see it?" She asks and it takes Ace's brain a moment to work its way up from the gutter to understand she's talking about his drawing.

"I er, yeah, if you want to."

Suddenly very self-conscious, Ace remains perfectly still as the model plods over on bare feet, tucking a corner of the sheet in on itself so that it remains in place, held up by her modest chest.

"I model for the money and because I've found artists are always looking for rare colouring like I got slapped with," the woman muses, inspecting his horribly detailed drawing of her legs, "but it's nice to have people focus on the other parts. It doesn't happen very often."

And sure enough, when Ace sends a quick glance to the studios dotted around the rooms, every last drawing from today has sharp streaks of red or intense splashes of yellow. He's the only one that's focused on the tender tan of her legs and he can feel the back of his neck warm at the thought.

"Weren't you suppose to have a few sketches though?"

When Ace turns his surprised eyes to her, the woman blushes slightly, looking away.

"I was listening to the brief, I've known Ivankov for a few years," she explains, one small, dainty hand waving away her words.

Ace hadn't realised how delicate her hands actually were; they'd been supporting her head, hidden away beneath the curtain of her bright hair. He'd probably have drawn those instead had he known.

"Yeah, but I'm really slow sometimes," Ace admits, an idea forming in his head and he can't quite catch the words before they all slip straight out, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to meet up again so I can finish?"

Model girl blinks at him and Ace feels his freckles ignite, but his loose cannon of a mouth stammers on regardless.

"I just, maybe we could get a coffee or something only not coffee because it's disgusting though if you like it that's okay an-"

A slim finger presses against Ace's lips and he blinks, looking down into amused yellow eyes.

"My name's Dracule Riskua and I much prefer hot chocolate to coffee." Riskua smiles at him, head cocking to a side and ah she's waiting for him to respond.

"Portgas D. Ace; in total agreement on the hot chocolate vs coffee debate."

"I'd love to go on a date where we talk about how hot chocolate is so much better than coffee and you draw me again," Riskua admits and Ace is pretty sure he has specks of coal on his face instead of freckles because it's the only explanation of why his cheeks feel like they're on fire.

That and the fact Riskua's still wearing just a sheet.

"Sounds good… My brief is due in three days…"

"So tomorrow is okay then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow would be great."

.

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* * *

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"Ace, where's my picture?"

"What picture?"

"The one you said you'd draw me for my office because you had a girl model in."

"…I have no idea what you're talking about, Sabo."

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 **Oh ho! What is this? A sketchbook doing with only one person as the subject?**

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"Ace! You never draw people."

"Yeah so?"

"You spent all of the run up to your life drawing bitching about it."

"And?"

"And why do you have a sketchbook full of life drawing?"

Ace's neck snaps up but it's too late, Sabo's already flicked through half of it and he's still going. It's all of one girl as well. Oh ho! Either Ace's got a girlfriend or he's a very talented stalker. Or-

"You liar! The female model didn't cancel at all!" It'd taken Sabo ages to 'remind' Ace about the drawing he'd been promised for his office, but Ace had just mumbled out that the model didn't turn up.

But his dirty liar of a brother has been telling porkies it seems.

"These can't have all been drawn in one sitting," Sabo muses, flicking through and defy dodging Ace's lunge to reclaim the book. "Do the rest of the Whitebeards know you're meeting up with some chick to draw her all the-" Sabo cuts off as he opens to the next page, which has the woman drawn laid out in what is unquestionably Ace's bedsheets, fast asleep.

His head snaps up to glance at Ace's room (the door having been left open) down the hall but the pattern on the sheets matches up.

"Sabo! Give that back you bastard!"

The blond jumps back to the front and his mouth pops open at the little date at the start. He'd drawn this girl drinking from that coffeeshop mug three months ago!

"Ace! Have you been dating some girl for three whole months?!"

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* * *

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"You write for the newspaper?" He'd had no idea.

Riskua looks up at him from behind the mass of her fabric scarf and he admits the orange clashes horrible against her hair but he'd seen it patterned with birds and it'd reminded him of her but now he wishes he'd tried to look for a different colour. That she still wears it anyway despite the colour clash makes him feel warm inside.

"Well yeah, I don't model anymore because I've got an artist boyfriend who catches all my good-sides," Riskua murmurs, looking away as her cheeks turn rosy and Ace does his best not to grin.

He feels kind of bad that Riskua's abandoned what she'd called 'easy income' for him, but at the same time he's pleased as hell he's the only one that's getting to look upon her sheet covered form… and sometimes not-even-covered-by-a-sheet form.

"-and I've always been good at writing, so here we are. I've got a book in the works, but until then…" Riskua trails off, shrugging her thin shoulders as she shuffles closer, her fingers linking with his.

They're out of town, as usual because Riskua's rather insistent her male relatives don't find out about their relationship yet and Ace literally has a thousand plus adopted brothers who'll all needle him about having a girlfriend the second they find out.

He wants to put it off long enough that when Riskua meets them she won't go running for the hills. That she's doing the same because of her father and uncle; well it's good they're on a similar page but Ace's now a bit worried about just who her relatives are.

He's quite certain one of them is Dracule Mihawk, which is seven shades of not good because as the World's Greatest Swordsman the man's intimidating as hell. Not that Ace won't face off against him to keep Riskua around, but, yeah, he'd like to avoid it while he still can.

"No art supplies today?" Riskua asks, looking pointedly towards his smaller than usual bag and Ace can only shrug in return. It's true; usually whenever they're on a date he'll bring something because he just can't get enough of drawing/painting her, but-

"Pops got me a camera," Ace admits, running his free hand through his hair and then grinning at Riskua, "if you're good with pictures that is?"

"Ace, I'll be your muse every day you want me to be."

Ducking his head down into his shoulders, Ace grins, letting go of Riskua's hand to instead grab at her hip and pull her into his side.

Not that she seems to mind if the hand sliding into his back pocket is any indication.

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* * *

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"Hey Ace, I th-"

Thatch trails off, halting in his blatant invasion into Ace's apartment, hand still on the front door he'd unlocked with the spare key the poor boy probably (clearly) forgot he'd given him.

He'd expected to find Ace either passed out in the aftermath of a food-eating contest (it wouldn't be the first time) or in the middle of a sleepover with his pre-Whitebeard brothers.

Well, a sleepover is clearly happening, but it certainly ain't with Ace's other brothers that's for sure.

His freckled sibling is fast asleep on his couch, curled up around a redhead that's in one of Ace's shirts. Thatch is sure it's one of Ace's shirts; the boy doesn't own enough shirts for Thatch to not recognise them all when he seems them.

While Ace is fast asleep, Redhead (fellow redhead, even if her hair is a true red instead of fabulous ginger like his) is clearly awake because she's peeking up at him with one open eye, a little smile on her lips.

She's pointing to something, Thatch realises after a second. The camera on the coffee table.

Stealthily sneaking forwards, Thatch snatches it up, lifting a brow as he waits for further instructions. Redhead just gestures to herself and Ace with the one finger that's not trapped under Ace's arm and Thatch understands instantly.

Red 'goes back to sleep' as Thatch snaps a quick photo and while he'll never be as artful as Ace, the little photo that gets spat out of the old-style camera at the bottom is cute as fuck.

Red has opened both eyes now, winking at him before she returns back to 'sleeping'.

It has Thatch's lips twitching up in amusement and he snatched up a sharpie, scribbling a quick ' _introduce your gurl to us, Ace_ ' at the bottom of the photo, which he leaves on the coffee table for his brother to find later.

Hell, he can't even remember what he'd been planning to ask Ace when he barged in here, but Thatch knows what he's gonna do now.

He's gonna go spread the news.

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 **So I met your brother. Turns out we're in the same protesting group.**

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"Bright Eyes?"

"Ace, don't panic, but I've been arrested."

Pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen for any sign of a prank call, Ace puts the device back against the side of his head, still not quite certain that he's heard right.

"What?"

"I was at a protest, and the government had beef against that. I'm in a cell now."

Well hell, he'd have expected this call from Sabo, or from someone about Luffy (cause god knows Luffy's too stupid to think to ring Ace himself) but from Riskua? His smart, sensible girlfriend?

"I've clearly underestimated you."

"Yes, you have. Bring me some bail money, please? I'll make it worth your while?"

"I'm on my way."

Hanging up, Ace stands from his chair and stretches. He's the last person left in the studio, having been in the process of pulling an all-nighter in order to get some compositions he wants to try sketched out on paper. His back pops with the motion and Ace snatches up his bag, heading for the door.

Then, his phones goes again.

"Hello?"

"Look, don't get mad, Ace, but I've been arrested."

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* * *

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Sabo meets Ace's vibrantly coloured girlfriend in a jail cell. He recognises her instantly from the many (oh so many) drawings he'd found in Ace's sketchbooks; she wears that contemplative expression as well in real life as she does on paper.

"Hi there, my asshole of a brother hasn't introduced us yet, but I'm Sabo, Ace's brother."

Sticking out his hand, Sabo offers the redhead his best grin, watching her lips lift up as she slides her fingers into his.

"Dracule Riskua. It's a pleasure."

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When Ace rocks up half an hour later with their bail money, grumbling the whole way to their cell, Sabo is already knee-deep in a childhood tale; specifically, their dine n' dashes.

Riskua's a lovely ray of sunshine who laughs in all the right places and is more than happy to share the list (the oh so long list) of restaurants that she and Ace are both banned from because she's just as opposed to the idea of dine n' dashes as Ace is; which is to say not at all.

Ace frowns, looking between the two of them with a scowl.

But hey, Sabo didn't pull Riskua into this; turns out she's been part of Dragon's Revolution for two years. Given Sabo's been attending a lot of events in the capital (trying and succeeding in finding a way for Dragon's Revolutionary Movement to become a government party that will be going up for votes next year) he hasn't had chance to meet her at a protest yet. Hell, he's stumbled into her long before Ace got a chance to set up a meet and greet.

"You'll have to come over to Ace's apartment for tea tomorrow," Riskua's saying as the freckled idiot finally arrives, looking completely at home and not at all like she's lounging across a cell bed. "I'll cook, how does steak sound?"

"Sounds good, I'll bring Luffy along with me, so whatever portion size you think will fill us up, you best double your guess."

"You guys can't organise a dinner in my apartment without me," Ace snaps from the door, dark bags under his eyes and Sabo realises it is in fact four o'clock in the morning.

He should probably be feeling a bit guilty for dragging his brother out to the police station in the early morning, but Sabo's far too ecstatic about meeting sketchbook girl (and approving of her) to really care.

"Well if you'd introduced her, like a good brother should do, maybe I wouldn't have to."

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 **Take off that sweater. Please. It's burning my eyes and offends me.**

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"That sweater is hideous."

Pausing, Riskua looks down at the large sweater that covers her torso and nearly half her thighs. Sometimes sweaters that are oversized are cute. This one however…

"Okay, so it's not the prettiest of thi-"

"Ris-ya, it's offensive; it's searing when I only catch a glimpse from the corner of my eye. I daren't look at you head on."

Scowling, Riskua jabs her putter into Law's side, enjoying the way he still squirms. She'd discovered he had that vulnerable spot back when they'd been dating and even now she makes sure to take advantage of such a thing.

"We're out here in late winter playing mini-golf; if you think I'm wearing something other than the warmest thing in my wardrobe, you have another thing coming, my friend."

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She and Law had both met whilst trying to squirm out of the compulsory 'you must join a society' that the university staff had imposed upon Riskua's first (and thus Law's fourth) year.

It had been made mandatory for all students to join some form of club to 'encourage better culture', or something along those lines.

Now, never let it be said that Riskua was particularly a people person. She had her job as a life model already lined up and that offered all the social interaction she'd ever want in a week.

As such, she'd scrolled all the way through the hundreds of societies on the list and ended up picking the mini-golf enthusiasts one. Because the rule of thumb was if you were the only member of your society, you had no one to do stuff with and thus, didn't have to do the stuff.

The only problem with such an attempt to trick the university was that she hadn't been the only student with the same bright idea.

Hence, she and Law had ended up forming a society of two, left with money from the university that the absolutely had to spend on 'pursuing their interests'.

Hence, the mini-golf, which they'd kept up into the next school year because it actually wasn't that bad of a way to pass the time. Lord knows if they tried to find another 'one person only' club they'd probably both end up in a club with someone they'd hate. Best to stick with what they already knew. As things were though, they'd ended up with a pretty strong friendship, solid in the only way a relationship between to introverts can be.

That they'd spent six months of Riskua's first year dating was a can of worms better left to open at another time.

Regardless, their friendship had survived the break-up and Riskua's legendary day of nine hole-in-ones, so she's pretty certain nothing will have them falling out.

Even if Law insists on picking on her choice in sweaterwear. Not that it'd really been a choice.

"I thought Portgas-ya was an artist?"

"He is," Riskua confirms, taking a quick glance towards the location of the hole before returning her eyes to the personalised yellow and black golf ball. A quick tap from her putter and it's off down the green, bouncing off the broken keel that lays abandoned in hole 7's 'Pirate's Graveyard' and just missing out on the hole.

"Then why is this sweater so god awful?"

"Because for all Ace's talents, knitting is not one of them."

Rolling up the excessively long sleeves for the fourth time that day, Riskua leans on her putter as Law lines up to take his own shot, only the 'eath' of his 'death' tattoos visible in those silly thumb-covering but fingerless gloves. She knows he has a perfectly good pair of gloves, she'd bought him that perfectly good pair of gloves but he's an idiot and won't wear them because they don't match his favourite coat.

"Then why didn't he stick to something he's good at. Like drawing you."

"Because he's an absolute sweetheart who listens when I whine about it being cold. Ugly as it may be, this swath of fabric does the job. I am nice and toasty, unlike your frozen fingers."

Law grunts, putter hitting the ball and Riskua scowls something fierce when it effortlessly drops straight in the hole.

What Riskua doesn't say is that almost every damn penny Ace earns goes straight in a trust fund for his younger brother, Luffy. It's cute; Ace mainly gets by on his many, many Whitebeard brothers and their gifts, be they of food or other essentials. Every date they have is either free or cheap as chips.

Not that Ace scrimps; each activity they do is carefully thought out, that or Ace rings the place up and drops Whitebeard's name and suddenly they have a ninety percent discount. Even his presents are full of love and emotion and thought; like this very sweater which he'd given her for Christmas.

It's lovely and Riskua's never really been bothered about the aesthetic before. Why should she start to care now?

"As the only one of us to get a hole in one today, I can declare my fingers are fine."

"That's what the golfer in you is saying. What's the doctor saying?"

Law's studying to become a surgeon; he should have already completed his studies in medicine at his age, but he'd been held back from starting his degree due to illness. So instead of having graduated before Riskua got to university, he's only on his final year now.

Which worked out well in the end because she'd not have made any friends during her time here had she not met Law.

Well, she might have still met Ace, but she wouldn't have felt confident saying yes to his proposed 'coffee' date were it not for her time with Law the year before.

"Anyway, enough about my warm but unfortunate sweater. How's the latest Supernova doing?"

"I do wish you wouldn't call them that, Ris-ya."

The 'supernovas', as she'd termed them, were the collective body of people Law has dated since they (Riskua and Law) broke up. She's pretty certain the worst of it (Kid) has passed now, but Law shows no signs of settling with anyone.

Given she'd broken up with Law for his inability to commit to a serious relationship, she's not really surprised by that.

"Bonney-ya and I are done," Law grumbles with a dismissive wave, plucking his golf ball from the hole while she lines up her own shot.

"Well she'd have used your big surgeon salary on feeding her pizza addiction, so that's probably for the best."

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Their weekly meet up (fulfilling their university enforced 'society time' that had long since stopped being a commitment and started being a competitively fun outing) ends with Law winning that particular golf course by three points.

Given that they've now won an equal amount of games, (and that they're actually getting pretty good at this) Riskua feels it might be time for them to use the university funding that's thrown out them to head to Dressrosa for the incredible extravagant minigolf there.

That Law's awful uncle has been violently overthrown by the vigilant 'Strawhat' that's running around means her friend with probably enjoy the trip that little bit more.

"It's still an ugly sweater," Law grumbles and Riskua prods him in the side again.

"Go find your eighth supernova."

"It'll be ninth, actually."

"No, I purposely didn't count Kid. And that's for a good reason. Go find yourself a nice person, Law. Maybe you'll get lucky and meet Strawhat; you can thank him for overthrowing your tyrant of an uncle with sex." Riskua wiggles her brows, laughing when Law just pulls up the collar of her sweater to cover her face.

He doesn't deny it though; Riskua knows Law would unquestionably bang Strawhat.

They've just got to find out who the idiot doing the marines' job is first.

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 **Where the fuck did you come from?!**

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"So, I hear you've got a girlfriend, Ace!"

Ace can feel his heart clench, as if someone's jamming it into a vice or something and he's tempted to just turn tail and run.

Only he can never run from a fight, has never been capable of it.

But that is not his sperm donor sat up to table with his Pops. It's not. It's not it's not it's not-

"Ace. My baby."

"M-mom?"

Forgetting all about the absolute horror sat up to the dining room table, Ace's eyes land on his tired and pale mother and he can already feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Back when his biological father had ended up caught and thrown into jail, his mother's visa had run out and because of some legal crap, she'd been forcibly deported and unable to come back until Roger was released from prison.

Ace, who'd been born in this country, had ended up in Garp's care. Something about not being able to leave the country he was born in due to an incarcerated family relation. Which sucked balls; Ace has only ever read letters from his mother before. He'd got by in life, but he'd never forgiven (and never would) his damn sperm donor for putting the both of them in that situation.

That's why, as soon as Ace finds himself wrapped up in his mother's arms, he happily (easily, oh so easily) ignores the man sat up to the table with his Pops.

Why the hell would Pops even invite the bastard into his home?! Weren't they have supposed to have been rivals?

"Oh you're so tall," Portgas D. Rouge murmurs, brushing a strand of hair back from his face and Ace wouldn't have been able to stop the smile if he wanted to.

"Rouge! He's ignoring me!" Whiny bastard.

"Ace, son-"

"No, Newgate! He's my son, you can't-"

"Shut the fuck up! You weren't there, I'm not your son! And you didn't tell me you were inviting him so I'm not your son either right now!"

"That's right, he's my son," Rouge insists, running her hands through his hair and Ace melts a little at the motion.

Yeah, he's good with being Portgas D. Rouge's son.

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His mother is the only one he takes back to his apartment, because Pops has offered bloody Gol D. Roger a place to stay until he can get all his own estates back up and running, and there's no way Ace'd invite his 'father' back to his place for dinner.

The thing is, as soon as Ace gets to the door, he's reminded of the fact Riskua's still in there. God, he hopes she's put some clothes on.

His beautiful girlfriend- well when they met she was only wearing a sheet, she's not exactly body-shy. Ace's taken his precautions for that, getting his spare key back from Thatch (because of that damn spare key Thatch manages to stumble on them both during a nap and has spread the word to the Whitebeard's even though Ace wanted to introduce Riskua over a dinner or something) to make sure no one can walk in on her when she's less than covered.

That Riskua got his spare key in the end, well, it just seemed like a good idea at the time? Still does actually.

If she's going to be living it up in a jail cell with Sabo (never mind that it'd been a one-time thing) then she might as well have access to the rest of Ace's life. Hell, it's only Luffy the she needs to meet now.

Oh, and his recently returned mother.

Worrying his lip back and forth, Ace sucks in a breath and decides to just go for it. Riskua's either checked her phone or has not; pacing outside isn't going to change that.

"So, you're studying art, sweetheart?" Beaming at his mother, (his mother! His mother that he hasn't seen since he was a freshly birthed infant)

"Yeah, I am."

"And was Roger telling the truth? Has my little baby got himself a girl?"

Ace feels his cheeks burn but he slowly nods, flicking a glance to his apartment's kitchen and letting out a relived sigh. There's three plates set up for dinner; Riskua got his text and she's cooking dinner now, if the smell is anything to go by.

A flash of red from the corner of his eye has Ace straightening up.

"Mom, this is Riskua. Riskua, this is my Mom."

.

.

* * *

.

.

"He's dating Shanks' little girl?" Roger leans forwards eagerly, watching his old rival Newgate nod.

"She's good for him. Though Shanks doesn't yet know how they met."

"Oh?"

"Yes, apparently the little Dracule was earning her money through modelling for figure drawing classes."

.

 **What do you mean you two already know each other?**

.

"Eh? Shanks is my god-dad, why wouldn't I know Riskua?"

Ace stares at Luffy, feeling a migraine coming on, one he's trying to desperately supress. It's either than or his desire to wrap his hands around Luffy's neck and squeeze. Those urges from childhood (the ones to beat some sense into the little idiot) have never actually left; Ace's just got that much better at not acting on the desire.

"You mean every damn summer-"

"Luffy came to visit me and Papa," Riskua finishes with an easy agreement, Luffy still bundled up in her arms and Ace can feel his eyebrows twitching. Of course they know each other, why is he even surprised?

"When I told 'Skua we swore brotherhood, she declared she was already my god-sister but she doesn't want any more god-brothers since you and Sabo turned down the invite to come with me."

At that Luffy pouts and Ace scowls that little bit more.

He could have met Riskua years ago, could have known her years ago (and then he might have even been able to keep that Law creep away from her too) but he'd been too much of a brat to take Luffy (and thus Shanks) up on the offer.

Oh god, Riskua's dad might recognise him as the little brat from years ago.

No wait, if Luffy talks about him to Shanks and Riskua half as much as he does to every damn person he meets, then Shanks is going to unquestionably remember him.

Fuck. Damn it.

"You know, I always wanted to meet Luffy's older brother, I didn't realise you were the same Ace until now," Riskua muses, smiling with her cheeks turning rosy. "I kinda had a crush on you just from what Luffy said in my teen years."

Fuck, he really should have taken up Luffy's offer.

God damn it.

.

 **Fuck, did you mean to send me this?**

.

The family dinner is always a riot; the fifteen of them that have been officially adopted in the eyes of the law (plus Ace who was too old by the time he joined them but the thought's there) are the ones that sit up to table with Pops in the incredibly large dining room (it's more of a ballroom really) while the rest of their brothers are seated at tables all around the area.

As such, Marco is in prime position to witness the moment Ace checks his phone, and then proceeds to go redder than the pasta sauce they've eating, redder than the strawberry tart Thatch has prepared for supper.

Marco's eyebrows shoot up, not surprised in the least to see Ace scramble upon and out his chair, offering some half baked excuse as he flees the table.

"I'll go see if he's okay, yoi."

"You do that, Son."

With permission from Pops to go snoop, Marco leisurely makes his way to the corridor, following the muffle sounds of Ace's voice. Clearly he's on the phone, and if Ace has felt the need to instantly ring someone up after his beetroot impression…

"-me that right now! Wha-no, I don't mean stop sending the- yes I appreciate it! No I don't think you're- what? There's nothing wrong with- shut up and listen I'm not lying-"

"Everything okay, Ace?"

His freckles brother spins around, still blushing and with his phone to his ear.

"Fine, everything's fine, Marco, I'm fine, every- please just be quiet," Ace cuts off his stammering in favour of a whine for whoever may be on the other end of the phone, waving Marco away.

The blond has a feeling he knows exactly what Ace's been sent though, and with a smug smile he heads back to the dining room. No need to report to Pops on this.

Not yet, at least.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"You're gonna kill me, Bright Eyes."

Laid out on his bed, Ace stares down at the image on screen, having finally stolen away from the meal he'd forced himself back to. Everyone would get suspicious (more suspicious that is) if he didn't return. Having to suffer through the dinner knowing exactly what was on his phone had been torture.

But now he's finally got some time to himself.

Flicking open the message, Ace slowly scrolls down the collection of photos, smile on his face and anticipation rolling through his stomach.

The very first image has Riskua posing seductively across the bed of whatever hotel she's staying at, lying there in his shirt. Ace doesn't have a clue at what point that particular shirt had been stolen (his favourite one, no wonder he hadn't been able to find it) but he's not disappointed with where it's ended up.

Which, by the second picture, is on the hotel floor. Followed by Riskua's bra in the next picture, with the final picture an image showcasing the discarded shirt, bra and panties, tagged with the line 'missing you'.

It really didn't help that when he'd rung her up she'd been breathless, tone low and with the slightest accent from her home island leaking through. Exactly how she sounds post-orgasm.

God, Ace can't wait for her to get back from this stupid field trip the English students have all gone on.

He misses her too.

Another message pops up, an image-attachment clipped onto it and Ace grins. In the very least it appears he won't be going cold turkey while his girl's away.

Time to do the decent thing and send her a picture or two in return.

.

* * *

 **So, decided to upload some of the tumblr Bonuses here (ranging from actual 'canon' happenings in TittM, to AU stuff with the characters). Not all of them, but some of the more complete, finished ones. I'll tag the mature content ones with a NSFW in the chapter title.**

 **Enjoy,**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


	3. Red Hot Revolution AU (NSFW)

.

 **Red Hot Revolution AU  
** NSFW

.

 **Trio**

.

Riskua has no idea how she's ended up here, a revolutionary at her back and a pirate at her front, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Even if she doesn't know what the hell to do with them.

Or herself for that matter.

"You got her, Sabo?"

"Oh yeah."

Riskua whimpers as Sabo's fingers press against the soft flesh of her breast, his large hand dwarfing her, only the slightest imprint of pressure edging into the meat of her skin.

Her legs jolt as the blond's other hand rubs hard at the junction between her legs, the wet slick of a finger edging back and forth between her dipping folds has Riskua moaning louder.

"Fuck, you sound good," Ace breathes right in front of her, the hot exhale of his words ghosting across her lips. Her dry lips.

Riskua barely has the mind to wet them, tongue darting across her mouth and then Ace's own slick muscle is there, working against hers as Sabo works his way inside her.

The heel of his palm grinds against her clit and the redhead whines even more, back arching taunt from the touch.

"Moan again, Ri," Sabo orders, lips right by her ear, moulding around the lobe, teeth toying with the stun piercing.

She can feel his cock, can feel the solid length of it digging persistently against the bold curve of her rear.

Riskua whines long and hard, pressing her ass back into Sabo's erection, rubbing her leg up against Ace's as Sabo's hand continues to work her.

"Ace~ I want~ my hands~ ah!"

"Why does Ace get his named moaned and not me?"

"Yeah, Bright Eyes, you're not leaving Sabo out, are you?"

God she can barely think. What are they asking?

All that's on her brain is the hot press of Sabo's chest against her back, the steel of Ace's fingers holding her own hands down and not allowing her to touch, the potent scent of arousal that lingers heavy in the air.

"Ah~ please!"

"Show Sabo some love first," Ace commands and fuck his voice is hot, dark and deep and full of sin.

They're all full of sin, working each other up into a sweat-slicked, tangled mess of limbs.

Riskua angles her head back, skull catching on Sabo's shoulder as she nuzzles against his neck, teeth nipping and sucking.

She must do something right; her tongue laps just above his collarbone and she's rewarded by the intrusion of a second finger. It makes her jump.

"Sa-Sabo!"

"She sounds ready, Ace."

"I'm not done teasing yet."

And there's Ace's lips suckling at her nipple, Sabo's talented fingers teasing the other and she can't handle it all.

Her core clenches, squeezing Sabo's fingers as she spills all over his hand.

Ace licks it off when Sabo offers it to him and they're going to kill her.

"Hold on, Bright Eyes, we're just getting started."

.

 **Fervent**

.

Ace wakes up first today.

He's the one that wakes up with the sun, but sometimes Sabo or Riskua feel the need to wake up before the day has even dawned in order to get on with some work or experimentation or something.

They're both so much more academic than he is and sometimes that's a little intimidating to acknowledge.

But Ace is also the one who's the most in touch with his physical side. That's a big help whenever it's the three of them in bed.

Sometimes Riskua doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands and Sabo is always open for directions on just where he should be touching. It makes things fun.

Ace is the one that can read their bodies and know just where to touch, knows just how to touch to get them to buck or to whine or to moan.

A quick look to his left and Ace knows Sabo's going to be the last of them to get up. The blond is out cold, sawing away with a bead of drool gathering in the corner of his mouth.

Why Ace finds this attractive he has absolutely no idea.

A slight whimper to his left has Ace glancing that way instead, lips twitching up.

Riskua is awake, peering blearily out from between thick lashes. There's still the occasional splash of evidence from their activities last night dotted out across her skin, though Ace knows he's far from clean himself.

They'd just kind of collapsed onto the bed after the final round, none of them capable of finding the power to amble over to the bathroom to shower.

Though showering in the morning promises some very fun activities.

"You ganged up on me," Riskua sleepily accuses, wiping at her mouth and grimacing when she finds the dried path of drool which has tracked down her chin during the night.

Ace fondly remembers licking the other substances from her face hours ago, back before the sun had rose and the moon had still ruled the sky.

"You enjoyed it."

Riskua's cheeks puff out, lips pursed as she glances away in annoyance because Ace is right. He knows he's right.

Smirking, Ace worms his arm under her waist, hefting her naked body up until it's laid across his, their legs tangling as Riskua finds a comfortable position for herself. Her thigh presses into his hipbone and Ace hums, peppering a kiss to her hairline.

"It was still a lot to handle."

"You're the one that took us both on."

Because Ace is aware he's a lot to handle, he's aware Sabo's the exact same. Riskua balances them, it's why they work so well.

"I am," she agrees, shaking her head, "what was I thinking?" But she's smiling as she lies on his chest, her slender breasts pressing into his torso, their stomachs rising and falling in sync as they breathe.

A snore from Sabo breaks through the silence and Riskua reluctantly drags her eyes from his to lazily crawl over Sabo's naked form.

He's got the sheet half wrapped around him but it covers nothing important. Golden blond hair falls in wild tuffs with no regard to gravity at all; Sabo's bedhead is the funniest thing Ace could ever get to witness without leaving his bed.

"We should wake him up," Ace grumbles. The sun's just rose, it won't be long until breakfast is served and for all that Sabo likes sleeping-in when he can, he absolutely hates missing breakfast.

"We should wake him up," Riskua parrots, her voice sly and her lips twisting up into a teasing smile.

She edges off him, Ace's fingers lingering on the swell of her hip, her warm thigh against his.

But Riskua's completely focused on Sabo, her hands smoothing over his abdominals and edging up his torso. She traces that tattoo on his ribs once, twice and thrice for good measure, humming before pressing a kiss to the dark ink.

Content to kick back and watch the show, Ace props his head up on his arm for a better angle.

Riskua's lips haven't left Sabo's body, tracing around the edging of his large scar, tongue running over the puckered texture of the burnt skin.

Their blond lover moans, still not quite conscious but a lot closer than he was before.

Eagerly, Ace shifts a little bit closer, more excited than he's willing to admit.

Maybe they'll be missing breakfast after all; Ace doesn't mind if it's for this and he's sure Sabo won't either.

"Mmm, wha?"

"Good morning, Sabs," Riskua murmurs into his skin, one hand brushing back and forth against Sabo's hipbone.

Ace can't just sit back and ignore it all now.

He shifts forwards to close up that little bit of space between them, dragging his finger all the way from the top of Riskua's spine to the base and then back again.

She shivers under his touch, twisting so those yellow eyes can meet his, red hair sprawling out across Sabo's pale chest.

The former Noble is quick to tangle one hand in those crimson locks, pulling until she's forced to break eye contact with Ace and instead focus on him.

"No, not again," Riskua insists, grinding her ass back into Ace's groin and he groans, "I'm not playing submissive today."

From the throaty moan Sabo gives, Riskua has her hands full.

Ace watches the arc of Sabo's neck as he throws his head back, that delicious sound rolling out from between his lips. Ace whines, desperately trying to suffocate the noise by mashing his mouth into Riskua's shoulder blade, sucking at the tanned skin his lips find. Riskua's got two hands, of course she's not going to just pay Sabo's cock some attention. Then-

"Commander Ace?"

Both Sabo and Riskua have stopped moving and Ace wants to cry.

He's got Riskua's hand wrapped around his cock and Sabo is this close to panting and whining and maybe even begging. Why? What has he done wrong this time?

"Commander Ace? Marco needs you on deck!"

"You better get to dec-ah~!"

Sabo chokes off at the end of his sentence as Riskua gets back to work. She's released her hold on him and Ace wants to pretend he's not in. It's even worse knowing Sabo and Riskua are going to be going at it while he's probably going to be spending his time getting shouted at by Marco.

"Can't it wait?!" He calls desperately, hopefully, even more so when Sabo bites into his hand to kill his moan.

Not that Ace thinks it'd have really been audible over that lewd slurping sound; Riskua is wasting no time, lips wrapped around Sabo's cock but her eyes are on Ace.

"I-I'm afraid not, Commander."

"Fucking damn it."

Riskua's lips lift off of Sabo with a dirty pop, wet with more than just saliva.

"Have fun at your meeting, Commander."

She winks, Sabo laughing huskily into his hand, the other weaving into Riskua's hair.

It's not fair, Ace wants a morning blow job too.

Maybe if he's quick and the meeting is short?

He playfully slaps Riskua's ass as he rolls up and out of bed, watching her back arch in response. He's quick to work his shorts up his legs, though putting on the belt only acts as solid confirmation that he won't be getting the same treat Sabo's currently being gifted with.

"Enjoy~" Sabo purrs, hips bucking and fuck the both of them.

Bastards.

.

 **Paphian Dance**

.

"Soft," Sabo mumbles, running his fingers up and down the length of Riskua's arm.

She lying on her side, curled up against his chest, breath still a little uneven. Given that Sabo's had his head between her thighs (returning the favour, he'd insisted) that's not surprising.

Flattering certainly, but not surprising.

"Mmm, what did you say, Sabs?" Her own hand is wrapped up in his, head pillowed upon his outstretched arm as little exhaled puffs of air ghosting against the tender skin of his wrist.

"You're soft."

Well she's sort of soft. Just like himself and Ace, Riskua mainly consists of hard earned muscles, only broken up by the swell of her feminine curves. But her skin, it's soft as hell, smooth like silk beneath his fingertips.

"Zaa, that's good moisturiser. Vivi sends it to me. Desert Kingdom, they have to have good skincare products. I always slap it on after a bath." A bath, huh?

"That's a good idea!"

Springing up and out of bed, Sabo snatches up Riskua as he goes, her steady weight in his hold light enough that he can curl his arms and bring her close to his chest.

She throws her arms around his neck, head resting on his shoulder and they're both gloriously naked.

It's lucky Ace managed to get a room change when the Moby underwent repairs. Lucky for him that is, seeing as neither Sabo nor Riskua have a problem heading to the communal bathroom with nothing on.

Hey, this is Ace's family and they're here often enough to completely trust them. Nakedness and all.

Still, having a separate bath is nice.

.

It takes far too long to run, but once it's all done Sabo plops them both in, the water pooling around the two of them. It's a reasonably spacious bath, but not to the point it could be classified as a hot tub or miniature pool or anything. Neither side nor depth enough that they could full stretch their arms across the length. It is cosy though.

Riskua rests between his legs, her own thrown over the side of the bath, toes wiggling in the steam-fogged air.

"So when does the moisturiser come into play?"

"After the bath," Riskua murmurs with a giggle, the sound warm and soft, just like her.

Sabo presses his nose (one of his few obviously noble features, the sharp, thin bridge that never heels crooked despite how many times it's been broken in a fight) into her hair, nuzzling around until his lips find her ear. He toys with the earring there, the metal stun that sits in the lobe.

She's the only on of them that has piercings, one in her right ear and two in the left. He should buy her some earrings, special ones. Luffy's ahead of both himself and Ace in the jewellery department, having gotten her that pearl on her necklace years ago. Makes them look bad.

"I could just nod off here," Sabo murmurs. Clean water always has that effect, not quite the draining effect of the ocean but it does induce a certain drowsiness.

"Zaa, I've got you, airhead, I won't let you drown."

"If I didn't drown between your legs even though you were dripping-"

"Get some rest, Sabs," Riskua snaps, cuffing him around the ear.

She does draw his head to rest on her should though, hand rubbing soothingly at his back and Sabo's out like a light.

.

"…stop that…"

"Stop what, Bright Eyes?"

"I mean it, stop."

Sabo's eyes slowly open and he finds his skin is well and truly pruning.

At some point during his nap Ace has appeared, now also housed within the bathtub and his presence explains why the water's still warm. The walking heater is good for something after all.

"Get your hands off Ri's boobs," Sabo grumbles, swatting lazily at the offending limbs.

The freckle-faced man-child pinches Sabo's nipple in recompense and Sabo snarls into Riskua's clavicle.

"He doesn't get his treat now, Ri."

"Zaa, he doesn't?" Riskua drawls, one hand threading through Sabo's hair, nails lazily dragging down his scalp. It feels good, really good.

But Ace's pouting, pouting something fierce and Sabo already feels pretty bad that the poor sod got left high and dry earlier on.

Sabo's hand finds a toned thigh first, but that's not what he's going for.

Ace jumps but Sabo's already found the other man's cock, the half erect length twitching in his hold, hardening with each second of prolonged contact.

"Ack! Sabo, wait, wha-"

"Did that meanie Marco yell at our poor Ace?" Riskua whispers huskily, shifting in Sabo's lap to better face Ace.

It gives Sabo himself a better angle to keep working Ace's cock. He's getting excited himself but their focus right now is on getting those freckled cheeks as flustered as possible. They're well on their way, already rosy in a way that has nothing to do with the warm water.

"Nnngh, Sabo you basta-" Ace cuts off with a hissed choke as Riskua's dainty little hand joins Sabo's, no doubt her touch feather light compared to Sabo's firm grip.

"Nnnah~"

Riskua swallows Ace's moan with a messy clash of their lips, sucking and licking.

Sabo lavishes a kiss to Riskua's shoulder just as his thumb swipes across the head of Ace's cock using just a bit more pressure than he usually would.

The reaction, Ace's head dropping to hide in Riskua's chest as he fucking whimpers, hips jerking again and again in an attempt to chase the sensation; it's delicious.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Sabo whispers, taunting the tender skin of Riskua's neck as he does so, paying special attention to one of the many hickeys he finds. He thinks it's one of his, but who knows for sure?

Ace's hands are under the water, maybe on Riskua's hips and she's busy grinding away against Sabo's thigh and it's fucking hot watching her use him to chase her own orgasm. That she's multitasking, pumping Ace right along with him…

They're gonna have to thank Thatch someday, he's the one that planted the lovers idea in their heads.

That glorious bastard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!" Ace's cock shudders in their hands; cum barely visible in the steamy water.

Sabo's other hand is there helping Riskua get off when recognises those whimpers and they've both practically orgasmed at the same time.

It only takes him a quick twist with his own hand and he's joining them there.

So much for a clean bath.

.

 **Doing Breakfast Properly**

.

"You're such a good boy, Ace."

Sabo's voice is husky and if it weren't for the fucking handcuffs, Ace'd- he'd- he's not sure what he'd do but it'd be something other than just lay here!

"Such a good boy," Riskua agrees, her breath warm and wet against the side of his dick. Her lips wrap around one side as Sabo gets the other, their tongues coiling around him to stroke at each other and fuck this is killing him.

He's not proud of the whimper that leaves his throat, but both Sabo and Riskua groan onto his dick at the sound of it.

Tongues dance until their mouths are right by the head of his cock, lips engulfing him from both sides until they meet in another sloppy kiss and Ace curses, hips bucking.

It's too much.

"Stop holding out on us, Ace," Riskua whispers, hot breath so much more noticeable on his saliva coated cock.

"We just want a taste," Sabo promises, tongue flicking against the slit as Riskua's dainty hands caress his balls and Ace fucking whimpers. Whimpers.

Fuck.

"Fucking- Sabo! Ri~" his breath catches on her name because Sabo fucking swallows around him and Ace just can't hold himself back anymore.

"Save some for me, Sabs," Riskua whines, bare breasts rubbing up against his thigh even as one of her deceptively strong hands pins his hips to the mattress, preventing him from really riding the orgasm out.

Fucking hell, he needs these handcuffs off!

The wet smack of Sabo's lips meeting Riskua's has all of Ace's attention, even more so when a trickle of white escapes from the joining of their mouths and Ace's spent cock twinges at the sight.

"Our good boy tastes wonderful, doesn't he?" Sabo whispers, eyelids heavy as he shoots a sly glance to him, his free hands stroking possessively at Riskua's hips.

"Mmm, I just hope he's ready for round two."

This is how he's going to die; Portgas D. Ace, sexed to death.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Riskua's standing by the bed with Sabo's shirt on. There's only one button done up, joining the fabric at her sternum though the long white fabric covers her breasts with languished ease.

There's still sleep encrusting Ace's eyes but even when he wipes it away, Riskua is still there and there's still a tray full of food in her hands.

"Good morning," her lips quirk up at the corners, something soft in her eyes as Ace slowly rises, drawing his knees up slightly to accommodate for sitting up on his… well used mattress.

"Morning, Bright Eyes… Fluffy."

Sabo laughs sarcastically, running a hand through his bedhead, the fluffy strands for which his apt nickname has come about sticking up in every which way.

"Breakfast in bed, Dork?"

Grinning at Sabo's words and finally noticing the second tray in the other man's hands, Ace scoots back to allow the bed to further house the extra additions. Not that it usually struggles with such a thing, but hey, it's a welcoming gesture.

"I'd love it."

"Well damn, looks like we don't get to eat it all without him." Sabo drops onto the bed, the darker patches of his burnt left side rippling with the movement, capturing Ace's attention instantly. His element did that.

"Pancakes?"

"Oh god yes."

Maybe he should allow them to tease him more often if this is what comes about as a result? It's not like it's boring for him, and if he's going to get pampered like this after every time- though shit, does that mean he souls be pampering these two idiots when he gets to tease them?

Slotting that away for future reference, Ace eagerly accepts his plate, a bit mournful over Riskua's state of dress.

It's not that she doesn't look good in Sabo's shirt, it's just, well he's got no shirt for her to wear instead. All he has is… his shorts.

Which Sabo is wearing. Belt and all.

He looks good in them too.

Well fuck. He's not gonna have to try squeezing into Riskua's clothes, is he?

Eyes whipping around his room, Ace hastily snatched up Riskua's hat, planting it down on his head. There.

Now they can do morning-after breakfast properly.

.

* * *

 **So, er... Here we are. AU stuff, because the folks on tumblr wanted to see Sabo/Riskua/Ace and I'm a sucker for requests like that I guess. (There may or may not also exist a Red Hot Spots AU (Riskua/Law/Ace threesome stuff) but there's not enough drabbles on that topic to post... yet.**

 **Also, titled this as Part 1 because lord knows I'll probably write more.**

 **Enjoy,**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


	4. Tell it to the Marines Bonuses Part I

.

 **Tell it to the Marines Bonuses**  


.

 **Chapter 35 - Law's POV**

.

It really has been too long since he last got laid and by god he should not be doing this.

Ris is the first pirate (she may claim otherwise, but he recognised that look in her eyes, she's a pirate through and through) that he's encountered since his consumption of the One Ope Fruit, that comes across as dangerous.

She's not at Doflamingo level, nowhere near, but she is unquestionably a step above the raggle that populate North Blue.

That alone is a weighty reason as to why this is a bad idea, the source of those creepy eyes a second validation.  
Law's never been one to make the safe play though, that's obvious. Because what is life without a little risk anyway?

"I'm going to check how it responds to muscle movement," Law whispers, allowing the fingers of his right hand to trail down the smooth expanse of a tanned leg.

There might not be much bust on this woman, but Law'd be hard pressed to find another woman with legs as shapely as what Ris boasts.

Encircling her ankle within his grasp, Law slowly manipulates the limb, only giving the wound a second or so of thought. It is all healing fine regardless, he knows his own work well.

"Tense your leg."

The muscles twitch beneath his gaze and Law has a moment to fantasise about how those powerful legs would feel wrapped around his waist, imploring him to stay close, to keep bringing-

Ris laughing.

"Ris-ya?"

Because as he's rubbing the flat of one thumb into the sensitive flesh of her ankle, as the other hand strokes at the curve of her thigh, laughter is the last thing he's expecting to hear.

"Just thinking what my father would say about the current situation."

All motion ceases as those yellow eyes flash before his mind.

She doesn't seem like the kind of woman to hide behind her father though, and she never told him to stop.

Almost on autopilot, he offers up his conclusions, diverting her attention to the increased healing rate she possesses, only as a distraction it works a little too well.

God fucking damn it.

It's not like he'll even have time to hunt down a temporary partner on Barmork either, which means he's stuck with this woman for now, whom he's unsure of; is she teasing, is she rejecting? Is there something he's missing here?

Irritation sweeps through his body and Law needs to get out of this room now before he ends up spitting out a few choice words that he'll potentially regret later.

.

 **Chapter 42 - Ace's POV**

.

Not quite aware he's doing it, Ace presses a palm to his cheek, still staring ahead at the spot Riskua has just vacated, disappearing over the side of the Moby as if she hasn't just done, just done-

Ace can't even drum up the will to be annoyed at Sabo's smug face, his wiggling blond brows and his just generally unpleasant presence. He's still rather in shock.

She'd kissed him.

They had kissed as kids like this; Riskua and Luffy used to dog-pile him or Sabo or both of them if the opportunity was there, lathering them in quick pecking kisses. Though Luffy had tended to lean more towards slobbering than was appreciated.

It was something they'd long since grown out of though, something that Luffy has stopped doing as he came to decide hugs were better for more physical contact and the sheer amount of emotion he could pour into wrapping someone up in his rubbery limbs.

Riskua, Riskua had just kind of stopped it around the time he'd got his crush on Harvel actually. Incidentally around the time Sabo had probably kissed her, come to think of it.

Sure the three of them had blown him kisses as he'd set off out to sea, but blowing kisses and then, and then what just happened are two very different things.

Sabo salutes him, disappearing over the edge of the railings and Ace can barely get one foot to move before the other, can barely get his ass in gear to really see them off.

Glancing down shows Riskua sat attentively at the front of Sabo's rip-off-Striker, Slice or whatever it's called. She doesn't glance up at him, but Ace understands that.

When he set off he'd been torn on looking back or looking forwards too. He doesn't blame her.

Has she got more affectionate in her time as a Revolutionary? Is he missing something here?

Ace doesn't think he is, but then again, he's long since acknowledged the fact he's not exactly knowledgeable in social niceties. A result of his upbringing.

He might have grown strong as a child running wild in the jungle, but there's been many jokes and references he'd not understood being passed around among his crew and then the Whitebeards.

Hell, he still gets tripped up every now and then.

"Oh-ho. Oh-hohohohoho!"

One bulky arm swings down on his shoulders, Thatch leaning into his side and he's wearing a grin wider than what Ace thinks a non-rubber human should be capable of.

"Just best friends are we? The blush on those freckled cheeks tells me differently!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ace hisses, jabbing his elbow into Thatch's side and shooting a panicked glance towards where Sabo and Riskua have taken off on the knock-off-Striker. Sabo's such a copy-cat.

They've both turned back to wave, but they're unquestionably out of earshot.

"Ace has a crush!"

Burying his fist deep in Thatch's midriff, Ace straightens up with a scowl, valiantly ignoring the cat-calls of all his brothers. Each and every last one of them can go and rot in hell, the dirty betrayers. Bastards.

"Well, that was interesting," Haruta snickers, slinking up to stand beside the wheezing Thatch, kicking the chef's feet out from under him and then sitting himself down upon the ginger haired man's crumpled form. "But really, Hawk-Eyes' daughter? You're a braver man than I, brother."

They don't have a fucking clue, Ace realises.

They think Riskua is Mihawk's kid.

Of course she does use his last name, but that means diddly-squat in the long run. Ace uses his mother's name, though not for the simple fact his father has no last name.

That's not something he wants to think on right now though, not when he's just- when Riskua has just kissed him.

What does it mean, why did she do it? Was it just an affectionate gesture?

"Ace and Riskua, up in the nest," Haruta chimes, a recovered Thatch grinning like a mad-man as Ace drives his foot into the Twelfth Division Commander's face.

"F-U-C- Ow! Ace! That hurt!"

.

 **Chapter 44 - Ace's POV**

.

"So, why haven't you made a move on Red yet?"

Ace doesn't twist around to give Thatch the deadpan stare, even though he'd like to. He's a bumbling oaf sometimes, an idiot who's purposely ignoring what he already knows in order to get Ace to talk to him.

Very, very few members of the crew have a significant other. It's just too dangerous, being attaches to someone with such a high bounty, to someone from such a high profile crew. Getting hunted down because of who you're romancing; that'd suck.

Ace'd know the consequences of it better than most.

It's even worse for him though.

Because if by some miracle there was someone out there who'd want him in that way (someone who'd know him and still shower him with love, who'd accept him for all that he is; a hot-head, an idiot, the Second Division Commander, and the son of a demon) they'd end up with a target on the back. Never mind what'd happen if the world ever found out just what tainted blood runs through his veins.

Ace could never do that to someone, could never look to put them in a position so similar to his own.

So yeah, he likes Riskua.

But he's sure as hell not going to do anything about it.

His affections'll either pass or remain, but regardless of what happens, he doesn't think he could try really chasing something. Not with what it could do to Riskua.

It's not even like she notices anyway, he can suffer in silence; it's what he's been doing his whole life, after all.

"Ace?"

"It's just a crush-" (lie) "-it'll pass," Ace insists, finally drumming up the mask to turn around and grin at Thatch. "Don't wanna fuck up things with my best friend, after all."

"Nah, just fuck her up instead!" Thatch cackles, skipping off before Ace can even think about throwing some fire after him.

Despite his mood, his lips twitch up slightly at the edges after Thatch's comment and Ace forces himself to his feet.

He's promised to live a life with no regrets.

And fucking hell, would he regret bringing the World Government down on Riskua's head any harder than it'll already attempt.

.

* * *

 **Two snippets and I think that's it for today**

 **Enjoy,**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


	5. Risace Drabbles Part I (NSFW)

.

 **Risace Drabbles Part 1  
** NSFW

.

.

 **As I Say, Not as I Do**

.

"My god, what are these!"

Ace doesn't quite groan, nor does he whine. Instead it's a strange combination of the two that he buries into the thick fabric of the pillow, hugging the softness closer to his face in an attempt to drown Riskua out. That tone of voice alone indicates whatever it is, it's not gonna be good.

The covers of his bed are somewhere around his shins, tangled between his ankles but Ace has absolutely no desire to pull them up. They'll only be stripped away from him when Riskua realises he's trying to ignore her.

"Hey."

The elastic waistband of his underwear snaps against his side and Ace grunts, grumpily rolling over to peer up at Riskua.

She's wearing his shirt, the purple long-sleeved one he'd got for 'Marco Appreciation Day' (in which the whole crew, Pops included, had dressed up as the First Division Commander) and he'd ended up keeping it because it was sinfully comfortable.

Riskua must agree because Ace spies her bra still lying abandoned on the floor, the shirt buttoned at her sternum.

It takes another hard squint, but Ace finally registers what she's holding up; the pants that he'd eventually matched to the top.

"What?" He just wants to grab hold of her and haul her back into bed, curl up around her small body and just exist for the next few hours.

Riskua's wide awake though, full of energy so Ace highly doubts she'll let that happen.

"I want to know why you even own these pants."

Scoffing into the pillow, Ace abandons his attempts to drop back off to sleep, fully rolling over so he can better look at what the redhead is up to.

"Because I like 'em, okay?"

"Well the shirt's okay, but please tell me you don't wear it with these pants. Tell me it's a storage mistake and that they're not a pair."

"What's wrong with 'em?"

Ace looks between the pants Riskua is holding up and the purple shirt she's wearing, not quite spotting the problem. Neither of them have holes in, no tears, so what's the problem with them being a pair?

"…Ace. Are you secretly colour-blind? It's okay if you are, you can tell me."

As if to prove her point, Riskua swiftly pulls the 'offending' pants up her long legs, wiggling the material over her hips with a shimmy Ace pays a bit too much attention to.

"Do these look like they match?" Her hands are planted on her hips, Riskua leans forwards slightly, shirt gliding across her thin shoulders to giving Ace a quick glimpse of the supple flesh hidden by the large neckline.

Time for some strategic thinking now. He's quite capable of recognising an argument he's not going to win, and he's recently gotten quite good at picking his battles through no choice of his own.

"If I promise to never wear them together again, will you come and lay with me?"

Riskua's features melt as her smile warms, eyes bright and head nodding agreeably to his words.

Hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of the trousers, Ace reels her in and swiftly strips her of the pants she so dislikes.

"You can't keep that shirt," Ace grumbles as he drags her bodily over to the other side of the bed, arms wrapping around her waist and curling his legs up around hers. Long red hair tickles at his nose as he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, inhaling the clean scent of fresh-from-the-shower Riskua. "it's my dressing up as Marco shirt. We've all got one."

Her ribs flutter as she giggles and Ace tightens his hold.

This is nice.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Three hours later, Ace feels his eyebrow twitch slightly as Riskua pulls a pair of pants from her own wardrobe with the loudest pattern he's ever seen upon them. True the colour matches her borrowed shirt, but… it's so loud.

Do as I say, not as I do indeed.

.

 **Bathbombs**

.

"What're these?"

Relaxing back into Ace's chest, Riskua just focuses on the water lapping at her breastbone, curving around her boobs. It's much easier to focus on the warm water than whatever has caught Ace's attention, much easier to focus on the hard slope of Ace's chest at her back.

She wonders if Sanji is somewhere out there in the big wide world sensing this and having a heart attack.

"Whoops!"

At that Riskua does peel one eye open, the resounding splash of what look suspiciously like her entire collection of bath bombs disappearing beneath the water the only noise in the suddenly ringing silence.

"Ace… was that-"

The hissing of forty-four industrial-strength bathbombs answers her before her oaf of a boyfriend can.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"By the Blues," Marco breathes in surprise as Riskua storms passed, naked bar the dress of bubbles she wears.

Ace comes slipping after her, babbling apologies around his bubble-beard while trying to keep his balance on the now very wet floor.

Marco hates to think what the bathroom's got to look like right now.

.

 **Bubbles**

.

Three weeks. He's been on the waiting list for three whole weeks.

With a few hundred on the Moby, having a waiting list isn't something that can be avoided.

But this was supposed to be his day. His.

Instead, Vista finds himself with a towel tucked under one arm, standing outside the bathroom (the only bathroom on the whole Moby with both a big tub and running hot water) and the sound of a very familiar hooligan echoing from behind the closed door.

"Look, I'm the Polar Tang!"

The Polar Tang… That was one of those Rookies' ships, right? The submarine one… it's a crappy innuendo and normally Vista would ignore it but this was supposed to be his day with the hot water and the big bath.

"Damn it, Ace!"

Kicking open the door (shattering the lock in the process but if they counted every lock broken on board they'd lose track after a week), Vista storms in, throwing down his towel in challenge.

Half submerged in the bath, Ace twists around to stare at him, chin and everything beneath inundated into the water.

For a moment, Vista can only stare at the very yellow bubbles covering the Second Division Commander's hair, twisting it up into twin devil horns.

Also residing within the bath, Dracule Riskua folds her arms across her bare chest, the disapproving frown upon her face at odds with the ridiculous bubble beard she sports. Combined with the gravity defying hair twist (also crafted with that ridiculous yellow shampoo) she looks just as spectacularly weird as Ace.

"Eh? Vista?" Ace cocks his head to a side, half his cheek submerging into the water before he startles into action, throwing his hands towards Riskua to cup her breasts and hide them from view.

Vista's uncomfortable with the fact the little lady Dracule rolls her eyes at the exact same time he does.

So, they're not having sex or even messing about. Well, not the kind of messing about Vista was expecting anyway.

"You little bastard! Today was my turn in the bath!"

"It was?"

"We're pirates, I thought the whole point of that was not playing fair?"

"Sshhh, Bright Eyes," Ace insists, going to cover her mouth with one hand before recalls exactly what those hands were already cupping and aborting the movement. Instead, he shoves his hair (and the bubbly mess atop it that does look to be the same shade of yellow as that sub) at her instead.

As the lady splutters, face twisting in disgust as she ends up with bubbly strands of hair in her mouth, Ace grins at him, full of sheepish, boyish charm.

"I'll trade any chore with you if you let us have this?"

"Oh no way, I've been waiting three weeks for this."

.

.

* * *

.

.

"The Polar Tang? Really, Ace?"

"It was the only yellow thing I could think of."

Rising up from the floor (seeing as Vista had physically thrown them from the bathroom without so much as a flinch, Riskua wraps the towel he'd been kind enough to lob out with them around Ace's waist, snatching up the man's hat to cover herself.

Ace blinks, staring down at his hat that she holds at level with her hips before he swiftly arranges her hair, just until it's covering her breasts.

"Take the towel."

"No way, that's Vista's, who knows where it's been?"

"I'm clean, you little brats!"

The muffled yell rumbles through the air and Ace scowls, snapping his tongue out at the closed door.

"Spoil sport!"

There's a pause as Ace adjusts the towel at his waist, rolling his shoulders back and nodding to one of his many gawking brothers. Riskua still doesn't know all their names yet, she's not going to pretend otherwise.

"Well I suppose we should go wash this off," Riskua murmurs, gesturing to the mass of shampoo that still inhibits Ace's hair.

"Yeah. Shower-time?"

"Mmm, yes. Let's go."

.

 **Dancing below the Stars**

.

"It's not that difficult, it's a four-step dance."

It's not the steps Ace is having trouble with.

They're on the deck of the Merry, the night's sky of Alabasta stretching out overhead. All the other Strawhats have long since trudged off to bed, all but Nami the thief who has drawn the short straw of night watch.

Maybe Riskua sensed he needed a bit of comforting, needed a gentle touch that he couldn't get from Luffy or from all the other brothers he's gained. It doesn't matter what she said before about him not needing her to look after him; he wants her to be there.

That's all there is to it.

"Just step a little closer, Ace."

Nodding, Ace does just that, shuffling his feet forwards an inch or two, hands up and with no idea where the hell to put them, so they just hover uselessly.

"You're the one who said you wanted to do something other than sleep," Riskua grumbles, taking hold of his right hand and settling it upon the swell of her hip.

Ace swallows.

He'd said he wanted to do something. He hadn't expected Riskua to suggest dancing and he'd agreed before the words really registered. Anything to keep his mind off Teach.

Now he's here on deck with Riskua far too close for his heart to remain calm, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other linked with his own.

"Start by stepping back on your right foot," Riskua whispers, silvery voice all business even as she shivers; there are goosebumps on her bared arms. She's not a logia like him, she's not fire so of course she's gonna get cold.

Letting his temperature rise, Ace holds his breath as Riskua leans closer in response, their chests dangerously close to touchingly.

"You know what, just follow my lead," she says, exasperatedly rolling her eyes.

But it's not Ace's fault he can't concentrate, not with all that's going on and not with Riskua suddenly so close.

.

The temperature drops more as the night drags on and Ace is wide awake.

The colder it had gotten, the closer to him Riskua become, until her head had come to rest on his chest, giving up all semblance of leading him through some kind of fancy slow dance.

Directionless, Ace has no other choice than to gently sway in place, which is about all he can do on the dancing front without alcohol in his system.

She's dead on her feet, little puffs of air kissing at his chest as she breathes and it's bedtime, Ace thinks.

They can try dancing another day.

.

 **Flame Patterned**

.

Ace's mouth pops open in surprise, and while he's aware of Luffy stealing the leg of meat from between his hands, he can't quite drum up the willpower to tear his gaze from the sight before him. Luffy gets away with his little theft today, because this Ace is faced with presents itself a huge distraction.

"These are dancer's outfits," the little lady with the blue hair, the princess, mutters in annoyance.

Between the three women, the cook (Sanji) spins around them and can't quite seem to figure out where to put his eyes.

Well Ace knows exactly where the fool shouldn't be putting them.

Shooting to his feet, Ace marches away from the little buffet he and Luffy had been working their way through, shrugging off his cloak so that he can wrap it around Riskua's shoulders and cover all that bared skin.

Hell, he'd seen her sunbathing topless, this stupid outfit shouldn't be attracting so much of his attention. But it's cut well and highlights Riskua's subtle curves (he'll give the stupid cook credit, he's picked an outfit that treats her well) and-

"Ace, what are you doing?"

Peering up from beneath the brim of her hat, Riskua lifts a brow even as she shuffles her shoulders to better accept the weight of his cloak.

"Desert sun. You'll burn in that," Ace grumbles, folding his arms across his chest authoritatively, because if anyone knows anything about burns, it's him.

"Ace, have you seen the differences in our skin tone? I'm not the one in danger of burns here."

Riskua exposes one arm from his cloak long enough to lay it against his own. For all that Ace has managed to catch a little sun during his time at sea, he still fails to overcome Riskua's more natural tan.

"I am fire. I don't burn anymore, Shortcake."

At the name Riskua bristles, lips pursing and cheeks reddening and the sight has Ace's lips twitching. He's not made a comment on Riskua's height before, but if this is the kind of expression that such comments inspires he'll just have to do it more often.

Ace opens his mouth to continue teasing (he can see why Sabo enjoys it so much now) only for Riskua to capture his nose between her forefinger and thumb, forcing him to use the air he's just drawn in for breathing instead of for speaking as was planned.

"Hush, you. Those Whitebeard's have turned you into this teasing little thing. Sabo's gonna be heartbroken."

She lets go of his nose and Ace's grin widens.

"Well, if you're really not gonna burn, at least the cloak matches until I can get my own."

Yeah, it does, bringing him back to the main problem of Riskua's outfit having a damn flame pattern.

.

 **Lazy Mornings**

.

Having one of the few private cabin rooms in the Moby that houses a window wasn't something Ace really appreciated until now.

He'd always enjoyed basking in the warm glow of the sun of course, but not like this.

Not waking up beside the woman he's been crushing on for four years, watching the sunlight hit the tanned expanse of her bare back as she lays within the rumpled sheets of his bed.

It's not even like they'd been up to anything, they had just slept.

Riskua had nodded off on his shoulder while Ace had been trying to listen in to Marco's report; rather than risk joining her, he'd excused the two of them and carted her off to his room, crawling into bed once he'd made an attempt at making sure Riskua was comfortable.

She must have woken up at some point in the night, because she'd certainly been dressed when Ace put her to bed.

A quick glance from the corner of his eyes verifies this by the pile of fabric on the floor.

Tracing his fingers along the sharp line of Riskua's shoulder, Ace drags them down the length of her spine. Tanned skin is warm to the touch, torso rising and falling in shallow motions as she breathes.

She looks lovely, she wears the sun well.

Wiggling one arm under her midriff, Ace reels her into his hold, curling his body around her, face pressing into the mane of red hair. She smells of ocean spray and warmth; she's managed to mark his bed with her scent, it feels like it's everywhere.

"Mmm, Ace?" Her voice is thick with sleep and Ace just grunts in response, curling a little bit tighter.

He has zero intentions of unfolding, of getting up. This is nice, waking up next to someone. Being able to just lay there and know there's absolutely nothing wrong right now.

Riskua hums low in her throat, shuffling back a bit until she's comfortable, her shoulder blades flushed against Ace's chest and her arms wrapped around his own.

"Mmm, this is nice."

She's right, it is.

.

 **Nap Time**

.

Ace doesn't dare move.

There's a slight weight on his shoulder, slight tickle of hair dusting across his chest but he daren't squirm from the sensation.

He'd only been talking to Riskua, listening to her discuss more theories on her Haki stuff, even if it's all gone over his head.

Still, he's been in the New World long enough to witness some strange shit and so happily expands upon his own experience with Riskua's favourite topic of study.

She'd not really been answering the past few minutes and when the weight had settled on his shoulder, he figured out why.

She'd nodded off, fast asleep.

Ace hasn't missed the bruises that rested low beneath her eyes, how drawn and tight her mouth could be at times.

Riskua's worried, running herself ragged. She's exhausted.

It's difficult, tilting and arching his neck just enough to get a good look at her face.

There's a little scar on her lip that wasn't there before, a thin white line just off centre, resting on the right-hand side of her mouth.

He wants to brush his thumb over it, inspect the long-healed wound. He hopes the bastard who caused it suffered…

He wants to kiss it. Wants to kiss that scar.

Fucking hell.

Letting out a low sigh, Ace slips his arm around her back, slowly pulling her into his lap, transferring her head from shoulder to crook of his neck.

She sighs, cool breath ghosting across his collarbones, the thumping of her heartbeat drumming away beneath the hand he has on her back.

This is nice.

Leant back against the mast, beneath the stars of Paradise.

It's a good place for a nap.

It's a lovely sleep.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and this ends in a rude wake up call.

"Shitty- the hell's he doing with Ri-flower!"

.

 **Proposal**

.

"You know, I was just gonna ask her."

"Barbarian," Thatch whispers in horror as Sabo sucks in a shocked breath.

"No. No, Ace, no. That's not how it's done at all."

Blinking at his two brothers, Ace watching as Thatch and Sabo share a glance, as if questioning why they even let him talk or something.

Ace doesn't get it; it's not like he and Riskua really like the big show and dance people put on with coupley stuff. Sure, they're not afraid to show their affection for each other and sure they don't care what other people think… but a big parade or something? That isn't them.

"You're suppose to romance her," Thatch says sagely, Sabo nodding his head beside the cook and they both look more serious than Ace's seen them in months.

"Romance her?" Ace repeats numbly.

"Yep, it means she's more likely to say yes. And let's face it, you're gonna need all the help you can get."

At that Ace does bristle. What the hell is wrong with him? (Riskua doesn't care about his blood, she doesn't, that's not what they mean. He shouldn't have to keep reminding himself of this, it's been years since he told them. They know and they accept him)

"I'll go get Marco."

"And I'll get Koala. This'll probably need a woman's touch."

.

.

* * *

.

.

Ace ends up stumbling back to his cabin with far too much information (flowers and chocolate and venues and manners and what to say and what not to say) all running circles in his head. And there's more to talk about tomorrow, they'd insisted.

Stressed, he slides one hand through his hair, belatedly realising his hat is missing.

It's location is obvious when he glances up.

Because there Riskua is, leaning against his cabin door, the wide brim of his hat shadowing her face.

The very sight of her bolsters his spirits and he quickens his pace, stopping just a foot before her.

She's still got her head tilting down, which has Ace internally worrying.

Is something wrong? Why won't she look at him? (Is she having second thoughts?)

It takes him a moment to summon up the courage, but Ace presses two fingers ever so lightly to her chin and forces her to tilt her head up, to look him in the eye.

Only the expression on her face is far from sad.

She's grinning, a cheeky little thing that has her eyes crinkling as she wiggles her brows up at him.

There's a plain gold ring presented carefully between her teeth.

"Marry me?"

And it ruins every plan Thatch and Sabo have come up with, but Ace feels pretty romanced, so at least it appears one of them knows what they're doing.

"Yeah, I'll marry you, Bright Eyes."

.

 **Six Hotdogs**

.

"Come on, Bright Eyes, I was only joking!"

Scrambling after Riskua as she storms off of the skyline, Ace feels guilt build in his stomach.

In his defence the redhead has never seemed to have a problem before with heights, she liked the rollercoasters just fine.

So he'd shaken the skyline a bit, just for fun.

But then Riskua had just, er, frozen up or something.

And now she's mad.

Mad to the point she hadn't even yelled at him, had just given him the coldest glare he's ever been graced with and then stormed off.

"Bright Eyes!"

Skidding to a stop in front of her, Ace reaches out to plant his hands on her shoulders before remembering that physical contact probably isn't going to help here (and chances are she'll floor him before he could really halt her) so his arms just hover uselessly.

She's still not meeting his gaze, arms trembling with hands clenched into tiny, tight fists and the sunlight catching the droplets on her cheeks- shit.

Shit, she's crying.

"I'm sorry," Ace chokes out, twitching with the need to just draw her close and hold her against his chest.

Fuck, he'd had no idea she was this terrified of heights.

He knows everything's going to be okay when Riskua throws herself into his arms, even as a lacklustre punch smacks against his chest. Thank god.

"You scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"You will be," Riskua mumbles into his torso, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

She's still trembling slightly and Ace feels guilty as fuck.

It's why he begrudgingly submits to going on the spinning monstrosity later on.

Even if he agreed to the ride though, the six hotdogs he'd consumed early most certainly didn't.

.

"You shouldn't have come on that with me," Riskua murmurs, one hand rubbing firmly at his lower back, the comforting motion grounding Ace as he upchucks more and more hotdog.

What a waste.

Luffy's probably twitching somewhere, sensing that food's being wasted.

Ace'll beg for his brother's forgiveness later.

When his whole torso finally stops it's sporadic clenching, Ace twists to look over his shoulder at Riskua, grinning weakly.

"Am I forgiven now?"

Drawing a napkin from her bag, Riskua wipes the corners of his mouth before she drags the soft material across his lips.

"I think my crappy idea to drag you on that cancels out your crappy idea of shaking the gondola. Mutual forgiveness?"

"I don't think they're called gondolas," Ace mutters, cautiously standing straight. The world's still spinning a bit, but his stomach's steel consistency has reasserted itself now, locking down on the pitiful remains so that they may stay put.

"Pushing it there, Muscles."

"Sorry. Gondolas it is."

Riskua grins, arms coiling around his neck and rising to her tiptoes in order to plant a kiss upon the corner of his jaw.

"No kisses until you brush your teeth or something."

.

 **Takes Two**

.

"I'm pregnant."

"No, you're not."

"I really am pregnant."

"Ace, you are male. You can't get pregnant."

"Heh, don't tell Luffy that, it's the only thing that' stopping him from jumping that tattooed bastard."

Shaking her head, Riskua stares at the empty spread, the spread that should have fed at least thirty people, the spread of food Ace had put away all by himself. Well, okay, she'd helped with the one pasta dish, but it'd been the freckled face male that devoured the rest. And by god does she mean devoured.

"Urgh, I feel so full. I have to be pregnant, I never feel full."

"I suppose even you have a maximum capacity."

"No I don't. Now come rub our baby."

Ace snatches up her hand, planting it on his washboard stomach, pouting all the while.

Rolling her eyes, Riskua amusedly complies, rubbing her hand back and forth across the muscles, legs tangled in Ace's and half hanging off the arm of the sofa.

"You mean your food baby."

"Takes two people to make a baby, Bright Eyes. It's our food baby."

"And what exactly are you planning on calling him? Ed-gorge?"

"Hey, that's mean!"

Fingers race up Riskua's sides and she giggles, pressing her face into Ace's shoulder and flicking at his stomach in return.

"Hey, don't flick Eddy!"

.

 **Tub**

.

Ace wakes up in water.

He panics for a second, really panics.

Only the scent of vanilla bubble bath calms him right down.

That's right, he'd been taking a bath and, and clearly the narcolepsy had hit him. Only, he'd been taking a bath alone?

Cocking his head back, Ace stares back at Riskua who has somehow slipped herself between him and the back of the bath.

"You fell asleep in the tub, I'm just here making sure you don't drown."

His head is resting on her shoulder, red hair thrown over the adjacent one and her legs are spread wide to accommodate his bulk between them. Each breath he takes presses him against toned thighs that're framing his sides.

"I should fall asleep in the tub more often then."

Riskua muffled a husky laugh into his hair, one of her hands interwoven with his, the other tracing lazy patterns across his ribs. Her cheek is resting against the top of his head and though he's now slouching in the bath that'd only just been big enough to accommodate his six-foot-one frame to begin with, Ace finds this far more agreeable than bathing alone.

Especially when he only needs to tilt his head slightly to press a little kiss to Riskua's neck.

"No more bathing alone?" He asks hopefully, lavishing another kiss to her neck in an attempt to support his case.

He can feel the subtle swell of Riskua's breasts against his back, the gentle rise and fall of her torso against his. This is much more enjoyable than bathing alone.

"Okay, joint baths sound great."

.

 **Twister**

.

"You want us to play some shitty game on the floor?"

Ace grumbles, folding his arms across his chest and scowling. Of all the damn things he'd expected when Sabo and Riskua invaded the Moby for his birthday, some game about touching feet or hands to coloured spots on the floor hadn't been on that list.

He'd rather been hoping for something else actually.

Like time with Riskua. Alone.

But like that was ever gonna happen.

"'Fraid you're gonna lose?" Riskua challenges, cocking shapley hips to a side with one hand firmly planted on them.

Ace follows the motion of her body for a second, takes in the swell of her lower half angled in such a way and then swallows around a dry tongue.

"I ain't scared. I can beat you."

"Great! Then I'll call out the colours first!"

.

Five minutes later, Ace can see exactly why Sabo had wanted to call the colours.

The bastard.

Ace's face is uncomfortably close to Riskua's chest, one of her arms stretching over his head to keep contact with the red circle she'd been allocated to.

"Left foot green, Ri."

At that Ace does brighten; there's only one green circle left, and it's on the other side of him to where Riskua currently is. There's no way-

Riskua's leg straddles his waist, toes just making contact with the required circle. She's so close to his flank that he can feel the heat of her thigh through the material of her pants; suddenly deciding to start going shirtless isn't seeming like such a good idea.

Panicking, Ace shoots Sabo a pleading glance, well aware his cheeks are burning crimson.

The only saving grace here is that Riskua is now half-twisted away from him, incapable of seeing his face. Not unless she's eaten an Owl Zoan Fruit in their time apart.

Agonisingly slowly, the bastard Ace calls brother spins the little do-hicky in his possession; Ace can practically hear the thumping of his heart with every rotation the arrow makes.

"Right hand blue."

Fuck.

"You're not gonna mange that," Riskua declares, her neck twisting uncomfortably over one shoulder to peer at him from the corner of her eye. She looks as if she can sense his desire to throw the match and get the hell out of this situation.

Someday, this inability to step back from a challenge is gonna get him in killed.

It's already gotten him into trouble, after all.

"Squidge up," Ace orders, wiggling his arm under Riskua, straining to keep as much distance between them as possible.

But every time his best friend so much as inhales, the swell of slender breasts that are suddenly anything but subtle brush against his forearm.

Fuck whoever invented this game; it's torture.

.

 **Banana**

.

"That's the second one you've broken."

"I'm nervous, alright?!" Ace snaps, cheeks burning as Riskua hides a smile behind one hand.

"Here, let me put it on."

She takes the silver packet from his hand, lips pecking a quick kiss to his cheek in the process before she turns her attention back to the problem. Elegant fingers make a delicate tear in the wrapper, pulling the condom free and rolling it on with a grace that makes the motion appear almost effortless.

"How the hell did you manage that?" Ace grumbles, grunting when Riskua's hands give a quick squeeze before retreating, trailing up his body, nails tracing his nipples before thin fingers smooth out across his shoulders.

"Because I'm just that good," Riskua breathes, "and I guess I'm not as nervous as you."

The tease has Ace scowling, scooping her up to swiftly deposit on the bed. It let's him lean over her, caging her lithe form in with his arms, tongue licking along the column of Riskua's neck.

"I'm not nervous," Ace lies, nipping at the thin layer of skin that hides Riskua's pulse-point, hands working their way down her sides.

"Really? Because I lied; I am."

The admission has Ace pulling back slightly, settling himself by Riskua's side. It's less intimidating that way, he's not hovering, not above her. Just by her side, a position that gives her more than enough leverage to push him off and away. Not that he doesn't think Riskua incapable of punting him out the room if he does anything she doesn't like anyway.

"We don't have to do this yet, if you don't want to." It'd be anticlimactic (in ever sense of the word) but if it's gonna ruin what they have, Ace'd wait. Even if that means he's gonna have to spend some time calming himself down.

"No!" Riskua yelps before slamming one hand over her mouth, cheeks flushing, embarrassed. Her other hand tangles in his hair, pulling until he's leaning back over her again. "I want to do this. Just, I've never done it before."

That little grin, all flushed cheeks and anxious energy has Ace's stomach flipping. Those words though-

"Never ever?" Ace repeats, head cocked, fingers skimming her sides and Riskua squirms beneath him, tanned skin stark against his white sheets.

"Nothing penetrative outside of what we've done tonight."

Yeah, Ace can still smell her on his fingers.

"I don't wanna hurt you."

"Please, you haven't hurt me since you crumbled cookies into my stuff. That's not gonna change anytime soon."

Neck hot from that embarrassing reminder, Ace leans down to press a kiss to Riskua's stomach, watching the abs flex in response, the smooth rolling motion breezing down into her hips. He laps at her skin, memorising the taste, the warm flesh and slight sweat that's starting to build up.

"Sure?"

"Sure. Show me what this sex thing is all about, Tiger."

.

"I'm sore all over," Riskua murmurs, stretching out beside him, long legs tangled in his own. Her calves flex against his, toes pointing until they brush against the tops of his feet.

Smoothing his hand down from where it sits on the side of her hip, Ace draws it slowly back up until his warm palm is resting on the dip of her waist.

Riskua's hair has sprawled out possessively over his pillows, both the one she's using and the one he's nestled his own head on.

"Good sore?" Ace asks quietly, the peace of the moment resting potently around their forms.

"Good sore," she agrees, back arching with the stretch.

Funnily enough, when she's done, Riskua ends up pressed further into his side. Not that Ace's complaining; now the arm he had tucked under her can curl fully around her back.

"So, how were you so good at putting the condom on?" It's bugging him.

He completely believes Riskua when she said he was her first (she'd been so tight, he'd had to go so slow, he doesn't doubt her in the slightest), but the thought's still nagging at him.

Because Ace's had experience putting them on, even if it were only for a few times, but he'd still ripped two.

There's a breath of silence before Riskua sighs into his shoulder, looking away, flustered.

"…I practiced with a banana."

"What?" The word is blurting free from Ace's mouth before he's even registered the words.

And then he starts laughing, completely unable to help himself.

Just picturing Riskua sat around trying to roll a condom on a banana- and where would she have done this? Would someone have stumbled on her while she was doing that? How would she even explain it?

"S-shut up!" She snaps, pinching the skin of his ribs, cheeks brighter than her hair.

"Is that all you practiced with the banana?" Ace manages to wheeze out, crumbling into more helpless hysterics at the astonished, offended look on Riskua's face. "Should I be worried about other fruit? Should I keep Marco out of your sight?"

"Shut the hell up, Freckle-Face! It's a good thing I did practice how to put a condom on because you sure as hell were struggling!"

Ace won't bow to petty name-calling though, he's much too amused at the moment; it's so rare for Riskua to get embarrassed about something so he's gonna milk it for all it's worth.

"Well you don't need any more bananas to practice on," Ace whispers huskily, blowing out a quick, cool breath over Riskua's face.

Her eyes flutter close for a moment before her eyelids slowly retreat again, acidic yellow peering up from beneath thick black lashes.

"Not sure if I want to use that knowledge now," she grumbles but it's all mumbled from around a childish pout, drawing a grin from Ace as he bundles her up further into his arms.

"Oh you want to. What was it I heard? 'Ah, Ace! Yes!'"

"My voice doesn't sound like that!"

"Yeah, it does. It went so breathy and high and all because of me," Ace growls playfully, pecking a kiss to Riskua's nose and laughing as she huffs.

"S'not fair. Your voice just got all sexy and smoky," she finally moans, arms folding in defeat. The action does wonderful things to her subtle cleavage, pressing the soft curve of those perky breasts right up against his chest. He can appreciate that, even in this post-sex bliss. The afterglow is amazing, lying right beside Riskua; well, it's everything he'd hoped it'd be and more.

"That's what you do to me."

Titling her chin back, Ace smooths his lips across hers, the kiss warm, as lazy and slow as the setting sun.

He's in no rush because if Riskua to be believed, he's got this forever.

It's not something he ever plans on giving up.

.

 **Dream a little Dream**

.

 _"Ah~ Ace!"_

.

Ace awakens to a leering face and uncomfortably tight pants.

Drawing his knees to his chest, the newly minted Second Division Commander punts Thatch away from him, making sure his obvious arousal is as hidden as can be.

Fuck, it's been a long while since he had a dream like- well, that's a lie. Demi he may be, but he can still have wet dreams. It's the first time Riskua's starred in one since he set out to sea though and the reminder makes his cheeks burn.

"Got a problem there, Ace?"

"Get the fuck out, Thatch!"

"Say, who's 'Ri'?"

"Fucking out!"

His pillow slams into Thatch's face and the cook flees before Ace can decide fire would make a better repellent.

He throws himself back down on the bed, wincing at the jarring movement that offers a bit too much friction, but he will not beat of to the half-hazy memory of a dream about his best-friend. No, Ace respects her too much, even if the visual, the sensual touches his brain had conjured up leaves him aching.

God damn it, he hopes he runs into Riskua soon so he can get over this; maybe seeing her again will kill this train of thought.

Because distance and time sure hasn't.

.

 **Duck Faces & Half Giants**

.

"What are you doing?"

Ace stares up at Riskua's face, one finger hooked under the waistband of her silk panties (silk, is she trying to fucking kill him?) in total disbelief. Because what the hell kind of face is that?

"What, don't you like it? You were staring at that chick all day-"

"Stop that," Ace scolds, pinching Riskua's inner thigh and accepting the swat to the head he earns in return. "stop that thing you're doing with your face." Because Riskua's pursing her lips in that stupid expression girls have taken to wearing when they're trying (and failing) to be sexy and she's purposely trying to put him off now, he realises.

The bitch.

Well two can play at that game.

"I said stop it," Ace growls against her thigh, nose rubbing against the crease where her leg joins to her pelvis, all the while offering up his best attempt at that 'sexy smoulder'.

Riskua's lips twitch with her suppressed laughter, her hands coming down to ruffle through his hair, nails scraping against his skull as the scent of her arousal invades his senses.

"I think you'd look good with a mohawk," she insists, tugging strands of his hair up in what is surely a poor intimidation of the hairstyle.

Ace growls into her flesh, hands roaming up from her thighs to brush over her sides, dipping back down to grasp at the curve of her hips.

"And you'd look good with a bald head," he grumbles, smirking when it startled a laugh from between Riskua's lips.

"No I wouldn't. You enjoy playing with my hair too much to be serious about that."

His knees are disagreeing with being pressed to to the floor for so long.

Peppering wet kisses into the tanned flesh of her midriff, Ace slowly works his way up from hipbone to belly button, dipping his tongue into the indent and smirking when Riskua's jolts with the sensation.

"Maybe shave one side then."

"Ace, if I find even a lock of my hair has been cut without my permission, I'll gut you."

She's grabbed a tight fist of his hair, pulling it back so he's forced to look her in the eye and Ace grins. Next his tongue is flat against her stomach and licking all the way up, eyes still locked together and she shudders, breath catching.

"You'd look pretty with or without hair… as long as you don't keep trying that duck expression."

With a snort, Riskua releases the tight grip on his hair, smoothing the slight waves down, expression fond. No bill-lips in sight and Ace is so done kneeling right now.

Quickly wrapping his arms around Riskua's legs, Ace shoots into standing, the both of them swearing loudly at the near miss of Riskua's head almost meeting the ceiling.

"Do you not want sex, is that it? I go to all that effort of getting you hot and bothered and you nearly knock me out via ceiling?"

"Shut up, Bright Eyes! I ain't trying to knock you out!"

She laughs, folded over his shoulder to accommodate for the low hold he's got of her legs and then next thing Ace knows is that his ass has been pinched. So he cops a quick feel himself through that scrap of silk Riskua calls underwear, the material butter-soft beneath his fingers. She smells of citrus, that new body moisturiser that Haruta bought because he knows Ace hates limes and Riskua uses it whenever she's trying to tease him.

Ace is growing begrudgingly fond of limes.

Dumping his precious cargo on the bed, he folds his arms and watches as Riskua laughs, back arching (and moisturised tits gleaming in the window given sunlight) as she makes herself comfortable.

"Still conscious!" she cheers, laughing delightedly when he grabs hold of her ankle and pulls her back to the edge of the bed.

"Not when I'm done, you won't be," he promises, even as he recalls a time he'd have been far too nervous, too new to their relationship to ever make such a dirty promise.

Unlike the first few times where she'd been surprised with such words, Riskua perks up, her free foot reaching out to grace his hipbone with a light stroke of toes.

"Oh? That sounds like a tall order, Mr Fire Fist."

Harmless flames licking at his fingers, Ace digs his thumbs into the sole of Riskua's captured foot, rubbing the under-arch and grinning when she just melts with the motion.

"Is that so, Bright Eyes?"

"Yeah, it is, you might have to keep that up for a few hours or so."

Laughing, Ace works his hands up the smooth skin of her calf, short nails creating a delicious friction as they edge along her skin.

"For the record," Ace mutters, pressing a kiss to Riskua's ankle, the first in his long path up her inner leg, "I was trying to figure out why that woman's lips took up half her face."

"They were big, weren't they?"

"I know something bigger."

Riskua laughs so hard she snorts and if Ace were a more self-conscious man, perhaps his ego would be wounded with that.

"Please, those things were almost as big as the Moby. You can't compete with that."

Ace chuckles, already at Riskua's knee now and his hands roam back down her calf, the slight pressure of his warmed thumbs eliciting a content sigh from the redhead.

"Competing with those would be bad for the ego," Ace agrees with an easy smile, fingers dragging ever so slowly back up to explore past her knee.

"You're plenty big enough as it is. Anymore and we'd have to have a serious talk on just what the human body is capable of."

"Makes you wonder how those half giant kids come about, doesn't it?"

"No! Ace! Stop that!" She swats at his shoulder, sitting up to do so and Ace abandons his little adventure with her leg, instead following her up when Riskua lays back down.

"That is not something I wanna think about right now," she insists and before Ace can make a smart remark, her hand starts stroking through the coarse material of his shorts.

"That's cheating," Ace grunts, one hand clenching at the bedsheets, the other working up Riskua's chest, fingers tracing the sharp jolt of her collarbones and running through the droplets of water that still remain in the hollow there. "You missed a spot."

"Well if someone hadn't interrupted me in the shower, maybe I'd have dried better."

"This is better," Ace insists, sliding wet fingers down between the shallow valley of her breasts, leaving a thin wet trail. "Fuck~"

Riskua squeezes him again, legs parted and expression imploring. And who is Ace to say no to such a silent command?

Time to make good on his promise.

.

 **Hullabaloo**

.

"Captain!"

Glancing up at Yasopp's bellow, Shanks stills upon the deck, reaching out with his Observation to see just what it is that has caught his snipers attention.

The answer has a smile stealing across his face. For that extra little bit of confirmation, Yasopp calls down a "Riskua ahoy, Captain!"

"To the island, Beckman!"

.

Jumping off the row boat, Shanks entire being lights up to see Riskua sprinting down the beach, floaty white sundress flowing around her legs as she comes dashing across the sand. He's more than proficient enough with his one arm now to catch her, spinning the two of them around before he sets his daughter back down on her feet.

It's been a year since he last saw her and he's got so much to say.

He went with her advice, he and Makino are married now. He hadn't been able to stand leaving the village without the confirmation she was his and he hers, every time he'd gotten close to stepping on Red Force without asking his feet had taken him right back off.

So, he's a married man now and… and he's gonna be a dad again.

Makino's giving him another brat. He didn't get any warning with Riskua, she's just been there when he'd learnt of her existence, had been toddling around and speaking already.

This time he gets to be excited, gets to feel the anticipation of knowing there's gonna be another little him running around. He hopes this one turns out as good as Riskua did.

He's a lucky man. Shanks knows this, knows it like the sun rises in the East, knows it like the sea is blue.

"Hey, Gully, guess what?! You're gonna-"

Shanks cuts himself when he finally gets a good look at his darling daughter.

"Gully," Shanks begins again, staring and staring hard but it's not going away.

An oval shaped bruise (he knows those kind of bruises well, knows they're not called bruises at all but he refused to even consider it) resting on the sharp jut of her collarbone. Shanks suddenly remembers exactly what this island is for and by the Blues, is this what a heart-attack feels like?

"Gully, what are you doing on Panglossian Island?"

Riskua blinks, eyes near orange as the sun reflects off of them, spilling around Shanks' broad form to reach her.

"Er, celebrating?"

Yep, definitely a heart-attack.

"Celebrating what?" He doesn't have to choke that out, he doesn't.

"Celebrating a year," Riskua says slowly, arms folding before her torso, shifting her weight onto one foot.

Raowl used to do the same thing whenever she was close to giving something up as a bad job; Shanks has that particular trait memorised. Like the changing of the wind just before a hurricane hits, it's an important sign to commit to memory.

"A year of what?"

Shanks mind is scrambling. What happened a year ago?

Almost instantly his mind spits forth the answer and his demeanour goes dark. Exactly a year ago he almost lost his precious little Gully and he hadn't even known, too busy fighting off Kaido to allow Whitebeard to go save Portgas D. Ace.

Which hadn't been needed in the end, because his little Gully, Anchor and the blond revolutionary had all beaten them to it.

Not without suffering though, by god's not without suffering for it.

"Oh, a year." Celebrating a year of being alive.

Well, Panglossian is a bit of a strange place to pick for such a celebration, but Shanks supposes it is a quiet island compared to the others, the unsaid truce between every last pirate in the New World ensures it remains quiet and marine-free.

"You don't have a problem with it?" Riskua's eyebrow lifts in surprise with disbelief written all over her face.

Shanks is clearly missing something here.

"He doesn't have a problem with it!"

The call isn't directed towards the Red Hair Pirate, but instead back towards the island and Shanks is treated to the sight of the Whitebeard Second Division Commander, Luffy's older brother, dropping down from a tree he'd clearly been hiding up.

"Wha- no problem at all?" Portgas D. Ace cocks his head to a side, the same incredulity on his face only affirming Shanks isn't seeing the whole picture here.

Then he spots the matching bruise on Portgas (the many, many matching bruises) and suddenly Shanks is in blissful ignorance no longer.

"You little bastard!"

"Shit!"

.

 **Morning Interruptions**

.

Ace is slowly, slowly, getting used to not waking up alone. Not in the same sense that he'd slept in the same room as his brothers as a kid, or with his crew as a Captain, or even with his men as a Commander.

No, Ace wakes up today (just like every day for the past week) in the guest bedroom aboard the Sunny.

What's different about today, however is that he doesn't wake to Riskua already going about her daily routine, or even to her sleeping head pillowed on his chest as she had been that first night.

No, today he wakes to Riskua still laid out beside him, one leg tangled in the space between his own.

As Ace is lying upon his back, it means the redhead is half sprawled across his chest, the rest of her occupying the space to his left.

What's different this morning is that her fingers are working over his chest, drawing meaningless patterns into warm skin with the gentle edge of her nails. What's different this morning is that she's slowly working her way up his neck; Ace'd drowsily returned to consciousness when she'd been gracing his collarbone with a kiss and now her mouth is pressing to the sensitive pulse point of his neck.

"Good morning, Commander Ace," Riskua purrs and she cannot have been awake for too long, her voice still dripping with sleep.

Teeth graze slightly at the skin of his jaw and Ace groans; it's really not difficult to get interested in what's happening first thing in the morning. Not difficult at all.

"Bright Eyes, what are you doing?" Ace whispers, praying his blatant excitement isn't bleeding too much into his voice.

Humming, Riskua's leg slowly drags up his body, toes tracing across his inner thigh and gliding over a hipbone before it comes down to rest beside his outer leg. She's edged up onto his chest now, straddling his waist, lying upon his chest, naked flesh against naked flesh. The soft swell of her breasts press against his torso, her arms folded across him and head cradled within them.

"Trying something new... is, is morning sex okay?"

Well if he wasn't aroused already that'd have cinched it.

Instead of answering verbally, Ace cups the swell of Riskua's hips between his hands, pulling down slightly.

The physical evidence of just how very okay he is with this brushes at her inner thighs and he can see the last bit of hesitance leave her face.

In response, hips rock slow and sensual against his, hands smoothing up across the stretch of his chest before cupping the sides of his face.

Ace's fingers dig into the taunt skin of Riskua's hips, his cheeks warming beneath her cold palm as her lips work over his. He keeps her anchored against him, just rocking his hips for a moment, enjoying the motion. Like lazy waves on a beach, rolling back and forth, just brushing up and down the shoreline.

"Mmm, this is nice," Riskua breathes, fingers curling as she drags them back down his chest, pressing a kiss just below the hollow of his throat.

The mingling scent of morning breath as their lips meet again is easy to ignore; his tongue outlining the boundaries of Riskua's mouth, though he makes no effort to memorise the sensation. It's far more pleasant to merely enjoy it, to brush up against the roof of her mouth ever so slightly, just enough to make her shiver.

They don't break apart, it's more a temporary release; Ace has never understood how kisses could be described as tongues battling for dominance. It's never like that with Riskua; theirs is more a slow dance, wind kissing at the ocean, wisps of smoke entwining, rising flames embracing.

It's natural, there's never an action shared between them that feels forced, not when they're being honest with one another.

Riskua sits up, hands resting upon his trembling ribs and while he's not panting yet, each quick breath he draws in through the nose is audible.

His own fingers linger, curling like foam down from her hips to journey along the length of her thighs, a slight pressure against the muscle beneath.

Sexes slide against one another as Riskua edges back and Ace groans, head pressing back into the pillow as desirous hands slowly work their way down his chest. He knows where this is going, it's not the first time, but even still he can't stop the swelling anticipation that comes with rubbing up against Riskua's wetne-

"Ace! Skua!"

Ace could weep.

They have both frozen, her hand a hair's breadth away from taking a gentle hold of Ace's length, his fingers digging into the tight flesh of Riskua's thighs.

And Luffy is outside, demanding their attention.

It's like he has a sixth sense for when they're about to get down to something, because sixty percent of the time he's managed to ruin it.

"We're at the island!"

Still in some half form of kneeling-sitting, Riskua closes her eyes and tips her head back.

Ace takes the time to appreciate the way her chest swells with the deep breath she draws in, because that's clearly all that he'll be getti-

A dainty hand cups his cock for a second and he feels the head nudge between welcoming lips, stealing a sudden hiss of surprise from Ace's lungs.

He shoots a shocked glance to Riskua, but she has her eyes closed for entirely different reasons now.

When she speaks, Ace can barely focus on the words, can only absentmindedly acknowledge how steady her voice is, because hips are slowly tilting back and forth, working him further into her.

"Ace's had another narcolepsy attack, you go on, we'll catch up."

The thundering racket of Luffy's retreating footsteps are quiet compared to the lustful moan that Riskua gives when she fully seats herself upon him.

Abandoning his hold upon her thighs, Ace takes her hands prisoner instead, removing them from his chest to instead intertwine their fingers.

"I am so done with being interrupted," the redhead groans, hips rotating slowly before it evolves into a sensuous rock that has Ace thrusting up impatiently.

Riskua takes the hint, follows the movement, legs flexing to lift herself up and lower back down, using his hands for support.

Feet planted firmly against the mattress for leverage, Ace meets her halfway, bucking up in rhythm with the tempo she sets, unable to tear his eyes away.

How cascades of red flow around her face with every motion, how cheeks flush with effort and arousal, how those sharp eyes never once stop looking at him as if he's something wondrous. Her scent remains nestled in the bedsheets as an ever-present perfume; the feel of her around him, enveloping him, her fingers gripping tightly to his hands.

It feels like love.

The thought has Ace jolting up, chest to chest with Riskua and it makes it so much harder to keep pressing into her but so much easier to wrap one arm around her waist, to bring her hand to his lips and kiss it, press it close as grunts and moans begin to spill over.

Riskua's hand knocks against his abs as she works to get herself off too, works to try and time it some they can come together and he cannot get enough of the taste of her.

Their lips shift hungrily, Riskua breathlessly whimpering his name and Ace just comes undone.

He can feel Riskua reach completion too, fingers clenching his own, other hand squeezing at his waist, the first part of his she can grasp.

She clenches around him, fluttering and quivering, thighs twitching over his own.

Nuzzling his face into the side of her neck, Ace encircles Riskua within his arms, sweaty skin against sweaty skin.

Her hair tickles at the side of his face and he's very much aware of the fact they're both quite sticky in the pelvic area, but right now-

Ace flops onto his back, dragging Riskua down and sliding out of her at the same time.

She's still straddling him but further up his waist now, their faces level, and Ace peppers a kiss to her nose.

She smiles at him, the epitome of her nickname, her hands coming up to cradle the sides of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

This is still new, though Ace doubts the excitement will ever fade, not if she keeps looking at him like that every day.

A long press of a kiss graces his lips and Ace's eyes flutter closed, arms wrapping that little bit tighter around the girl stretched over his chest. Little puffs of air roll across his collarbone, chased by a satisfied hum.

What a perfect morning.

.

 **Slow Pace**

.

Riskua is sitting nestled between Ace's legs, leaning back into his chest with her head angled so she can lazily nip and suck at the tender flesh of his neck.

Oh, and his hands are down her pants.

Well, okay, just one of them is.

The other's off mapping out the sensitive skin that rests beneath her shirt. It's lazy, sexual touches and Riskua couldn't be more contently aroused than she is right now.

"God, you're wet," Ace breathes, hand squeezing a little tighter as he cups her left breast.

Riskua sucks a little harder at his neck, gently rocking her hips to the rhythm Ace is slowly building up. "Wet for you," she whines, spine arching as Ace's pace falters ever so slightly, the man beneath her registering those words before he enthusiastically continues right where he left off. Only this time he's rubbing at her clit with the heel of his hand.

She moans with each brush, with each thrust, every sound poured into the crook of Ace's neck as his warm hands draw her closer and closer to orgasm.

It's not a sudden onset like he's brought her to before, instead it's a pleasurable climb, one he keeps her cresting upon as his fingers continue to work their magic. A luxuriously lazy rise and fall.

"Mmmm, Ace~" Lapping at his neck in thanks, Riskua draws herself back from Ace's warm torso, hands running over the coarse material of his shorts as she turns to face him. She has enough experience now to strip him of those, the belt easily coming apart in her familiarised hands.

She greets Ace's cock with a gentle kiss to the head, settling her hands back upon his thighs as soon as he's done wiggling out of his shorts.

There's a muffled thump as they hit the floor, the dull clank of the belt buckle landing on the wood but Riskua has far more important things to focus on.

She gives the head another kiss, sucking only lightly before she runs her tongue down the whole length, rolling her lips back and forth as she goes.

Ace's hands are in her hair, fingers tangled in the long red strands even as his blunt nails rub gently at her scalp. He's breathing heavy already; she can feel the slight fluctuations of his midriff, her hands high enough on his thighs that fingertips brush against his hipbone.

"Fuck~" Ace moans, the sound deep and breathless as Riskua works him over, loving and slow.

She strokes at his thighs, edging up and over the fluttering muscles of his abdominals, thumbs tracing the sharp contours of his well sculptured physique. Wet lips capture the tip of his cock once again, tongue teasingly circling the head as flushed cheeks hollow, the gentle suction drawing a whine from Ace's throat.

"Love you," Riskua whispers, departing from his cock to nip at the taunt flesh that stretches across his hipbone, pressing a tenderly apologetic kiss to his skin after the little nip.

Bringing Ace to the same kind of orgasm as he'd indulged her in isn't easy; she's eager to see the sheer bliss that crosses his face. Restraining herself, pacing herself; it's hard.

But she manages, encouraged by Ace's grunts, groans and moans. They're her favourite kind of noises.

She swallows as much as she possibly can, wiping the excess from her lips and then sucking the fluids from the tips of her fingers, solely because it pleases Ace. The taste isn't bad, so to speak, but it's far from the best thing to ever caress her tastebuds.

Still, the buzz of doing this to Ace, of bringing him such pleasure; that's the best feeling in the world.

Crawling up his body, Riskua sprawls herself out across his chest, legs dangling with his and back arching at an odd angle to compensated for his 'leaning against the headboard' position.

Ace's arm wraps around her waist, taking some of the pressure to lean into him away and she relaxes, melts into his side.

"Love you too, Bright Eyes."

.

 **Strip Poker**

.

"We're not playing strip poker. I don't care what I said when I was drunk."

Sabo's face scrunches up but nope, no way, Ace will not be suckered into this. Not for all the treasure in the New World.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"Got any fours?"

Fuck Sabo. And fuck poker too.

* * *

God damn it, Ace was already at a disadvantage to begin with given he never wears a shirt anymore. He's got Pop's tattoo to show off after all.

That hasn't helped him here though, and he's already down to his underwear and sock. He's frustrated; how many times has Sabo played strip poker to the point that he's got a list of what clothing gets taken off in what order?

Ace's socks'll be the next thing to go, followed by his underwear.

Apparently hats get removed last.

Across from him, Marco frowns lips pursed and missing his signature purple shirt, though that's all he's lost.

Koala (Sabo's revolutionary friend) is down to her bra and panties; it's taking some serious effort on Ace's part to not stare more than he should.

The bastard who roped him into this has the most clothes on right now, not because he's winning but because he came to the table in his usual outfit. It'd take at least ten losing rounds to get Sabo completely naked.

The only damn blessing in all of this is that Riskua is sat right beside him and if he wants to take a peek he'll have to be blatantly obvious about it.

Which he's not willing to do. Even if she's completely topless right now.

He's so busy assessing the situation he misses Sabo's next play, but he pays attention when the round ends with another loss for him. A loss for everyone who isn't Marco, who seems to be the only one of them who actually knows how to really play this game.

"Goodbye pants," Riskua murmurs, wiggling free of her shorts beside him and Ace determinedly keeps his gaze straight ahead towards the First Division commander.

"Where the hell is your underwear, Ri?!"

Ace's neck snaps around before he can stop it.

Sure enough, Riskua is sat with her legs crossed in such a way that nothing is explicitly on show, but she's very, very naked.

"Just didn't feel like it today, how was I supposed to know we were gonna be playing strip poker?"

Ace is pretty sure he's swallowed his own tongue, but he just can't stop staring. She's just so tanned, and there's not a tan-line in sight.

"I'd say that's Ace out too."

Ace hasn't got a clue what he's out of, but he knows he's incredibly uncomfortable right now; it's a good thing his chair is pulled right up to the table, he doesn't need anyone else noticing his very obvious problem right now.

He buries his head in his hands and calls it quits.

Putting up with the heckling from these idiots would be easier than risking ending up naked next to an equally naked Riskua.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"Ace, the game's over."

He's spent the past hour in a daze, trying to make time fly by faster with nothing but his willpower. Hey, shit like that works for Riskua who can now walk on water, so it stands to reason he might have managed it.

But nope, it didn't happen.

He has to have had a narcolepsy attack as well; he's pretty sure he'd have noticed the removal of his pants otherwise.

"Where the fuck is my underwear?!" Ace hisses, snatching his hat off his head to cover himself.

"Don't worry, I haven't peeked," Riskua promises, one dainty hand covering her eyes. "Well, okay, maybe a little peek, just the one."

Fuck. He wants to die.

"Your shoulders are on fire, Ace."

He's so glad the others have left, because fuck this. Never again. Ever.

Even if the sight of a butt naked Riskua is the best thing he's seen all week.

.

 **Subtle Goodbyes**

.

"Oh god no."

Twitching slightly at Sanji declaration of despair, Luffy's panicked eyes dart towards the food.

But no, all seems okay, nothing's burning, nothing's wasted (not that any food would ever get wasted while in Luffy'd vicinity) so why is Sanji looking green?

* * *

"Are you joking?! It's barely been two hours since the last time!" Nami slams her closed fist down on the table, a scowl pulling at her face.

Not the 'you've stolen my money scowl', but more of a 'you're wasting that money when I could be hoarding it' frown.

Luffy's glad Sabo taught him what the word hoard means; it's a good word, he likes using it.

No wait, he's getting off track.

"Sanji! Food!"

There, that's better.

"Shitty Captain! How can you be so-"

"No!" Nami screeches, reaching across to slap one hand over Sanji's mouth, the cook swaying dangerously at the contact, "for god's sake, keep him ignorant! Keep him ignorant!"

Ignorant? That's where you don't know stuff, right? Well he wants to know now!

"I wanna know!" Luffy demands, pounding his own hand down on the table as the other makes a valiant attempt to retrieve the cooked meat from the oven.

Sanji nearly stabs him with a fork in recompense and Luffy's forced to retreat. For now.

"It's not something you need to know about," snaps Nami and that just has Luffy's jaw tightening even more.

He's the captain, and it's clearly something that distresses both of them, so-

Luffy pauses, hearing that low, throaty moan muffled through several layers of wood, accompanied by a whine that's higher in pitch and both Sanji and Nami flinch.

Why're they reacting like that?

"Are you sad 'cause Ace's leaving?"

If so, Luffy completely understands; he's sad Ace's visit has come to an end too. But Ace has a crew to get back to, his other family. The Whitebeards are cool guys; Luffy likes 'em.

"No way! I'm glad to see the back of him! But the way he's saying goodbye to a goddess like Ri-flower-"

"Sanji! Shut up!"

"Eh? Why shouldn't 'Skua and Ace have sex?"

Luffy cocks his head to a side in confusion, brows furrowing when both his crew mates turn in unison to gawk at him.

"Wha-what?! You know what they're doing?!"

"I knew you weren't really training over the two years you got on Amazon Lily!"

Sanji starts openly weeping and Luffy laughs.

His cook's so funny, why would he not spend the two years they'd been apart training?

Still, Luffy turns to Nami and grins.

"I'm not stupid! 'Skua told me all about the facts of life way before than Shitty Gramps ever did! She said it's healthy and normal and 'Skua'd never lie to me."

Sanji's still crying on the floor and now Nami's draped across the kitchen table to stare bewilderedly at him.

That means no one's watching the meat!

.

 **Warm Hands**

.

"Wha' are you doin'?"

Ace freezes in place, even though such an option is by far not his best bet.

He's still not grown out of it; when Garp has come trampling through the jungle his muscles had always locked up for a moment.

That moment was always just enough for their shitty Gramps to catch them and that always ended in pain.

Ace's got a feeling this is gonna be another one of those times.

"I-I- er," Ace stammers, brain finally rebooting and he snatches his hand back. Or tries to.

Riskua's own fingers cover his own, keeping them in place and Ace can feel his cheeks burning.

"Riskua, wha-"

"You're hands are warm."

Ace's cheeks are one degree away from literal flames as Riskua spreads his fingers, making sure he's cupping the entirety of her breasts before she's nuzzling her face back into the crook of his neck, cool breath fanning out across his collarbones.

She's asleep again in seconds but she's such a fucking light sleeper that Ace doesn't dare move.

Damn.

God he hopes his brothers don't come looking for him anytime soon.

.

 **Worship**

.

"Bright Eyes?"

Riskua is sat at the end of their the bed, half her bottom lip sucked into the warmth of her mouth, teeth scraping at the tender flesh as she wanders through the maze of her mind. It's not a place Ace will ever understand; he's not even going to try and pretend. She's the academic of them, the thinker, the planner. All he can do is call, leave unwound balls of string and hope can leave the maze behind.

"I want to try something, but-"

"What do you want to try?"

It's not that they're unadventurous (they're pirates after all, to be unadventurous would be as close to blasphemy as one could get) but they have been taking this slowly and carefully.

This, what they have, isn't something Ace is willing to risk by racing in head first, as he's wont to do.

Riskua is clearly of the same opinion; her every action so far has been just that, an action. Not words, because that is where Riskua cuts deep. No matter how well she can fight, how well she can wield those twin daggers-

'You lied to me'.

It's her words that cut the deepest, right to the core.

God, he thought he'd lost it that day. It'd all been hanging by a thread, by some miracle they'd all managed to pull through. Not without their scars, not without being dealt some of the worst blows yet, emotionally and physically, but they're still here.

More importantly though, Riskua's still here.

'You lied to me.'

He never will again.

That doesn't mean he isn't… cautious. Because Riskua has spent two years with Sabo, and his little shit of a brother has done his damn best to get the redhead onboard with the whole pranking thing though.

When the mattress sinks beneath his weight nothing unto happens.

Shoulders roll back in relief, muscles relaxing, Ace turns his attention to Riskua who's just sat beside him, legs pressed together and hands cradled in her lap. She's toying with her thumbs, still rolling her lip back and forth, hiding a nervous smile at the corner.

"Should I be scared?" Ace asks, pushing down those constant worries (is she having second thoughts, has she seen what everyone else does, that he might be Ace but he's also the Pirate King's son) in favour of working his eyes across Riskua's face for any hints.

"No, I just- lie down?"

Biting back the instinctive parroting of that question, Ace lifts a brow but nevertheless complies with Riskua's request. His legs dangle off the side of the bed given all he's done is just drop back onto the mattress, but Riskua's clearly not pleased with that, one finger twirling.

Ace follows the silent command, hips twisting until he's completely stretched out across the bed, quite unsure what to do with his limbs.

Riskua solves that for him, taking one of his hands in hers, thumbs running over the tough skin of his knuckles.

"I like your hands," she shares, spreading his fingers, placing gentle kisses to the tips of each one. "I like how they're bigger than mine, I like that they're always so warm." She sucks at his forefinger, a brief nip of teeth against skin.

It has Ace grunting, the way her lips slowly drag from around the tip, the hot wetness of her mouth giving way to the bite of cool air.

Hands slowly work up to his wrist, nails trace the black ink of his latest tattoo and Ace doesn't need to hear that she likes it. It's clear by the affection melting across his features, but she still presses a kiss to the little bird silhouette anyway.

Fingers continue to travel up his arm, Ace slowly relaxing into the sincere touch, muscles falling pliant beneath the caress.

"I like your shoulders too, like how broad they are," Riskua whispers, no longer sitting on the side of the bed but inside kneeling upon it just beside his hips, the bed dipping from the additional weight.

She spreads her hands out, the slow movement tracing the sharp jolt of his collarbones, touch devout.

He can smell her now, the honey of her hair, the warmth of her flesh.

"I liked it when you put one of my legs over them, can we do that again?"

Ace groans, eyes closed and exhaling forcefully through his nose, teeth clenched as those words go straight to his groin.

"We can do that again," he confirms. They can do more than that again, the wide spread of Riskua's long legs, feeling the muscle tremble and quiver against his chest; that they will unquestionably do again.

Riskua settles on his waist, the press of her thighs against his sides, just a little too high to give any real relief.

There's a whine lodged somewhere at the back of his throat, one he can't quite vocalise yet. Because Riskua isn't watching for his reaction, her attention focused solely upon his body, gaze intent.

Tender patterns are traced out across his skin so delicate and precise that Ace can't help but squirm a little, one wistful roll of his hips coming by instinct alone.

Riskua's shamelessly focused though, roaming across his chest, a steady descent as her hands dip across his navel, her own thumbs taking a brief detour along the crease where her thighs meet her hips. It's outlined nicely by the thin black fabric of Ace's boxers, stolen for sleeping in. Just in case company comes knocking.

Jolting when Riskua's hands work over a particularly ticklish spot, Ace takes hold of her thighs because if he doesn't grab hold of something soon he's going to burst.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a lot I like about you, I'm trying to find my favourite bits," Riskua says. Her attention is finally on him, meeting his eyes with molten yellow, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

Like she's drowning in him.

Riskua shuffles back to make further room for her explorations, but Ace reels her back in, yanks her up by the grip he has on her legs, just to get another hit of that delicious friction. It's not enough to get Riskua to abandon what she's doing though, her hands still working along his stomach, trailing across scar tissue, touch firm against the dulled nerves. Mercifully she doesn't attempt to move again.

Ace doubts he'll be able to restrain himself if she does.

"I like your hair," Riskua breathes, leaning forwards, her own spilling over her shoulders and across his own skin as she lies atop him, swirling a lock of his hair between her fingers.

The slight hint of arousal lingers on her hands, from where her thumbs brushed so close to her core. She must be as excited as him if the scent can be picked up through the fabric of his underwear.

"I like how the shorter strands end up stuck to your forehead when you're sweating. You always look wonderful after a fight. After sex." She's so close, hot breath mingling with his own, eyes bright and wide, scarlet hair drawn around them like curtains. Her forearm is resting by his head, hand still half tangled in his hair, a pleasant pull.

Relishing the sensation of Riskua's lips against his, Ace rolls his hips up into her, groaning low and rough.

Hands work up to her hips and Ace flips them, careful not to accidentally throw them both over the side of the bed.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband drawn tight over Riskua's hips, Ace drags it down, peeling the fabric away from her tanned thighs, the result of far too much naked sunbathing for which he hadn't been present.

As he slowly works the underwear from Riskua's legs, he shakes his head, pleased by the sight of a telling damp patch.

"Touch yourself."

It comes out as a command, surprising both of them.

Riskua's eyes are wide and for a second Ace thinks he's gone too far, invading territory they haven't covered yet.

But then lips stretch languorously, hands working over shoulders to play with hardened nipples.

"Is this okay, Commander?"

The playful tease has Ace groaning. That's hot.

"Harder."

"Yes, sir~" Riskua's voice hitches, her hips stuttering, legs parting and now he can physically see her arousal, the wet folds presented, an offering for him alone.

He looks away for a moment, just enough time to efficiently remove his own restrictive underwear, only to find Riskua's wandering hands have found their way between her legs, fingers working back and forth in the exact place Ace wants to be.

He presses one hand (warmer than her skin, just as she said) to her thigh, the other removing the enthusiastic fingers. His tongue swipes across her lips, broad and slow, greedily burying between the folds, lapping and relishing the taste he inspires in this woman.

Riskua's hips buck as she thrashes in response, her hands in his hair and the leg he hasn't restrained over his shoulder. Her heel is digging into back, the sweet tang of her wetness overpowering.

"Ace~ no, I wanna kiss."

He loves that her words (always so carefully picked) seem to just fall apart now, only with him though.

Smoothing one hand up from her leg, outlining the curve of Riskua's hip, Ace concedes to her request, lingering to kiss at the silken swell of her breasts just long enough to avoid the instant tugging of his hair.

Riskua's lips press firmly to his, tongue meticulously circling his lips before it curls with his own.

Ace grips at her hair, his other hand stroking at the wetness he's just left behind. He rubs against Riskua's thigh, impatient fingers stroking between those damp folds, sweeping back and forth.

Riskua whines as he works a finger inside, thrusting a few times until a second one joins the first. Because he doesn't know how long this is supposed to last, doesn't know what she wants, and he's going to make Riskua tell him.

"Ah! Ace!"

Eager hips snap up towards him, thigh bumping against his cock and Ace hisses. Fuck that felt good.

His fingers twist and Riskua moans again, her face flushed, body no longer cold beneath his hands.

Ace laps at the flushed skin of her chest, sucking a nipple between his lips, playing with it between his teeth as his hips grind against her leg. He can feel his precum smearing there, but he can hold off, needs an indication-

"Get on with it," Riskua keens, bucking her hips for emphasis as the heel of Ace's hand rubs against her clit.

Removing his saturated fingers, Ace meets Riskua gave and gives them one slow lick, her appreciative groan going straight to his cock. Just like her hand.

Wheezing at the forceful touch, Ace's hips stutter, Riskua's thumb swiping over the head. Her fingers are soft, gentle against his ridge self and Ace drops his head beside Riskua's, sucking the lobe of her ear into his mouth to muffle another groan.

"Want this," Riskua breathes, the wet noise that follows lets Ace know exactly where that hand has gone and this time he does groan.

Taking himself in his hand, he presses against Riskua's entrance, the pulsating walls coaxing him forwards, fluttering at the head of his cock.

"Fuck, you look so good," Ace whispers, stealing forwards, encouraged by the legs that coil around his back. She's so hot, always so hot, back arched and clenching around him.

The response he gets is a wordless thing, caught somewhere between a plea and a moan; the pulsing quivers that surround him aren't really helping his focus, so Ace gives up.

He rolls his hips, grinding against Riskua, her legs clutching at his sides, heels digging into the small of his back.

"Nu-ah~ Ace!"

Thrusting back and forth, the bed squeaking with each motion, Ace focuses on Riskua's face. On those flushed cheeks, the little breathy gasps that she's not even trying to hold back, the way she's looking at him just as intently.

"Riskua, fuck~" He's not sure how much longer it lasts, not as long as he wants it to, that's for sure.

Because his pace falters and he barely has the sense of mind to release his grip on Riskua's hips and instead wrap his arms around her waist, hold her close instead of bruising her like before.

Then he's cumming, Riskua's name on his lips as he spills inside of her until he's spent. She catches his hand before he can get it between her legs.

"Ace," and her voice is rougher than usual, though there's no disappointment there, "I don't need to cum to enjoy it."

That still doesn't stop him from feeling guilty though, guilty he reached completion and she didn't.

He does comply when Riskua pushes him to the side, gathering her up in his arms when she edges closer. Her thighs are sticky with both their juices, with his release, one wedged between his and they will definitely need a shower in the morning. Hopefully an activity they can enjoy together.

"Are you-"

"Yes, Ace, I am sure. I know my own body, okay? I enjoyed it." She pecks a kiss to his clavicle, then to his jaw, then to his lips.

Stroking his fingers along her flank, Ace buries his nose in her hair, immersing himself in the scent of sex that prevails in the sheets.

.

* * *

 **Well, I did warn that there was a fair amount of drabbles on my tumblr. (I didn't expect there to be this many when I totalled them up, but hey ho) here's the first collection of Risace Stuff (I'll probably update this every 3 months with the next collection of Risace stuff as I write it bit by bit on tumblr). Enjoy?**

 **Lots of love,**

 **Tsume  
** **xxx**


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